Monday, February 7, 2011

Night on the Mission

A tilted eyebrow, glimpsed that sultry night
Meandering through bleak, insipid haze
Amongst the skinheads, ashes, Miller Lite
By dim-lit corkboards circling hipster greys
Some splattered words amidst the muted noise
As unlit candles, sharing cigarettes
A fancied trip to Vegas with the boys
For silken dizzy crystal minuets
Within a scarlet smile turned to blue
The softened spikes left hints of molten rust
From hill to hill, omnisciently we flew
Until black morning chewed us into dust
     If I'd been weaker you would still endure
     Some welts upon your consciousness, for sure


Sunday, February 6, 2011

Lucid for Islands

I am lucid for islands
in a row, the pungent
refraction of sunny
nodules in the sheathes
brings a glowing
nostalgic parmesan.

Opaque holes clamor
for depth-defying
pestilence. Forward,
bliss, crisis, and the
pinwheel's ineptitude.

Fallen upon a kitschy
spark, the present,
and my shredded
pancreas sits in tubes.


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