Lonely county.
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Over their grandchildren the grandchildren backflip into graves. Over their graves their grandchildren give birth to themselves hunched chin to toe rotating at the speed of zero. The replicating curl of scavenger birds takes a minute to read the menu. In this shallow crater the flattened trees drool oxygen into the coil of regenerating cells. The circle cannot be edited if the circle does not end. Cargo vans unload broken lamps that run on dead butterflies you can smell from the mall all the poets scratching their butts. Check under the cushion for the fever that puts on its pajamas and spends the night. I want beautiful women to sneeze on me. I want my skull with money in its mouth. The cathedral works like a dishwasher I fast-forward beneath the bandages dancing for tips. In my desk drawer my tolerance stays up late mainlining paperwork. My cold lung shivers the river open as ships mulch the shore. Try and catch me racing thoughts. Another wooden winter in this attic reading tally marks with a magnifying glass dissolved in oven wire my eyes spread to my liver. This is a list of failed pickup lines. You can pull out a basket a chorus like duct taped vehicles backing through shelves of sample jars the chemical braid bending each avenue back into its source. The sun wakes only to walk on its footsteps. The scavenger bird won’t stop chasing its tail. All the elderly in rocking chairs lip-sync my thinking I’ve been dosed crooked axing oars off their stems. The fever never sells out so go to the store. Stop checking my vitals. Wed the yoyo with the jugular the still steel discharge paneling air at arm level. My shaking hands can’t type the code to deactivate the alarm. Hidden in some government database the fever blocks all neurological inhibitors. The deadbolt is pushed into the power outlet. I write home for a care packages with sleeping aid and a counterfeit passport. No offense but we are robbing this bank.
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Sleepy cowboy.
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Out of shape shape shifters can’t shift all the way through chew a hole in the bedspread and get sent to a farm to live. The even rows of bone marrow clean their gunk out with a toothbrush. Sleepy cowboy with the safety off rustles in his sleeping bag swatting flies wakes up with his pockets turned out. He couldn’t write a poem if a printer slid one out of him. Amongst the piles of uranium with trees glowing like gas stations sleepy cowboy deteriorates into layers of mesh. Uncomfortable chairs follow him to his grave. I come through in a dog cone preaching of dangerous wavelengths. You can tell when I get bad ideas there’s a light bulb screwed in my skull. I don’t think about hard questions and have twenty seconds to realize what life is. My dust kicks up allergens as I take the interstate on horseback. I lasso a sedan and fly giggling through the atmosphere close my eyes and break narrative. If a coin falls heads I am blessed. Filing through manila foldered utensils a sigh like a whirlwind noising a pound of scanning coupons. Make room for the storm there’s a storm in the room. Self-taught in self-destruction sleepy cowboy whittles a barn door into antler-like structures. Tail end of a ten-month depression his body is swelling with love. It’s wintertime the sun is chirping. Hemisphere tennis roughing the monolog like nerve puppets unclipping their teeth. Ghosts rip the clear out their exterior now they are skeletons. Out the concave little bunnies scheme marathons. Bad boys clashed before rock n roll. Sprawled mist wrinkles yellow moons over lung fixtures. A storms of airplanes laced in twine. I’m reciting one-liners out a smashed car window. The resting Earth inside my speech bubble. The centuries inside me like urgency. Cursed as a pilgrim. Bad boned in my alien heart. The world is cold. Calculated. I teach insects to protect my home. I make an infomercial for it.
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