like the skull tattooed inside of my skull like the teeth in the crotch of your elbow like the knives at the end of each finger as you wave i am only watching as the sun fades into the swamp waiting for the brazen caterwaul of the owl with steer horns and a dead child's face waiting for its chess move to your chess move bishop captures knight and eats him without genuflection we are protected in this house here on stilts as the bombs roll the swamp and all the agony is as beneath our sight as someone else's genitalia cheats fantasy and only the report of shriek and afterward moan decides on this our vigilance screen the cameras swing deeper into the water and dirt we are told what to believe we are protected how joyousfrom Cyclone Fence (2007)
Monday, October 2, 2017
News Report from the Front
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