Just some things going around in my head.
in one place founding
a bread and butter station,
I am by the way-- and eggs are rotting in the fridge…
not only not fresh, but not even local
organic. that life so free
on the open range
reserved for the unwild
grass fed beasts
and I watch television and feel
like a cow some days…
feel like it's watching me back,
making judgments about me not
picking up the phone—
the most cutting edge data
plan of my life bundled up
for my friends and family to share
when I want them and when I don't
made possible by
a company not hiring
so I decide to call my dad,
whose brother is dying
and won't have a beer to feel better--
not by way of commandment…
and I forget the rest.
And we say how we think we'd live our lives
or ask how could we? then hang up.
the politicians call and ask for money.
I can't afford to give to them.
If, oh god, out of fear
I gasp at a moving subject,
Or wonder what approval
Moves me apart from others,
I pray-- it's that I'm cursing.
And despite words for the despicable and the holy,
I'm afraid I can't blame them,
For I am just the same.
it wasn't moonshine
swift down the throat
of turpentine or the vanishing
bulb of foreign plumes
night sang on as it always does
if you only listen
still in the endeavor stood
unopened a bag of ransacked
tomatoes waiting for hunger
it wasn't even that oracle
who brought in, blind-folded,
a three headed dog to lick
the face of the three headed god
it was a sacrifice, spit smothered
and smoking with a bit of steam
off in the woods somewhere before
winter seized up that fluctuating