Monday, February 13, 2006

Chapter Four: the emergent policy.

as i left the estate,
tracking something illkempt, illcontent
from the house to the fresh mown lawn,
my mouth tasted morning close to sunset.
periodically, like a miscommunication,
my voice called me from the windows.

iron security crown, marble mossed and vined,
a refugee egression, expatriate in limbo.
checked out, strung down with plastic
bags of electric toewarmers, military surplus.

i had cold feet.
so i sat.

a shrouded bear, exuding
onions and nicotine from
his maw. and his claws,
one holding a paper bag
wrapped around a bottle,
the other behind his back.

gruffly to me, this homeless bear:

"look what i found,
after the storm
came through our town.
the fever crib building
burnt bridges to cities,
berg-choked rivers, infantile backstroke
cutting through the pressure floes.

the no-good aesthetes,
melancholy narcissists,
running tongue over teeth
gritty enamel self-loathing,
will find this world
to fit their design."


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