Loyalty set me going like a fat gold watermelon

all night the mortar-brick

fleas among flat pink roses.


A familiar screen mounts in my mind’s eye.


Crude, I stick to the bed, flooded deep

in my nicotine view,

hip oiled quick as a casino.


The wind stack whiskers and sways its dulces

and now you try, reappearing, a hallway of numbness.

My hands felt like water slowing to a slush—frozen.

The door wide open, strange

it had been braced by a rock or chunk

of concrete


I’m no more your motor

than the clutch or the arrow’s approach,

A sponge, made specious, believable,

dust-thick birds around the roof’s final drop.

My body to melt out, willing water in

Dilute Reactive. Does anyone know

where she ends and something else begins?


Time is culpable,

coffee cooling on the table,

guilty of marathons.

We too will fall in with the crumble

of what had been thick concrete.




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