Guns & Loans

gory bone

good war read

I’m out of my

                                             but string infinite
                                             progress along


                                                                             in theatrical homage
                                                             to patricide


I’m lucky, I’ve the filthy powder
that tips the bucket
spilling itself entering into
is a displacement of

having been kindly invited



~ ~ ~



we arrived     the hardest work
already done
your hands smell of the salty cane
that stirs the oceans


                                             an aggressive mist where
I’m unable to greet you
at the door. Debts


we owe are clues
by a clock with infestations
of tics, dreams on the back of gazelles,
                 slap them on the ass

my fragrance has you grabbing your throat



~ ~ ~



likewise, an opportunist
picks from common demise

               To keep brooding!

               Swept glass onto a stiff page
                              where one imagines
                                             the end is successful,
                                             ends at all, upending

                                                             the world different I see
                                                             nature     and think
                                                                             heat, light
                                                             then smoke

Dot Devota (© 2009)