lovesongs & bygones and waitress missives, a christmas fissure left me broken still in the springtime heather– a furnace to burnish my boastful misgivings.
and, across town
rats eat baby arms
and higher suits sell the rodents' leavings-
infant fingernails bound with blood thinning pesticide
while students*
*yes, they do
dance
& I paint a banner which reads: Scarlet
or was it Amber
or it says Violet or Jade
all the same, in grey.
The bicycle messenger leaves at the first hint of rain; the terrible actor recites the parade route & I'm just about ready to shit on the sundial in the moonlight.
