Thursday, October 2, 2014

Gynocopter

mine
silly 
little 
girl
swatting flies
keep moving
hands
over eyes
We hear
the screams
from the 
house
and do 
nothing

Child
Gold
swept away
under fresh
burners
high in 
the mountains
with what
down towards
the beforehand
four or five 
years forgotten

source
break by
the upper crust
taking possession
of the night
bringing them
home
wire turned
sealed kisses
remodeled
by the foot
of the bed

repair
poor dears
the window beat
empty
gasping flowers
waiting to 
be fed
through alley's
of profit
the drive
merges in
we walk
empty handed

Liar
Bull beaten
flesh bare
the red welts
of time
never healed
that everybody 
knows
check the 
trust
sell the sweat
how do 
they cry

Colorado
the snow
follow us
home
under the table
We hide
buried in wheat
and lead
by folded 
hands
carefully square

Fight
the can
it rolls
down and up
the back track
silky smooth
how active 
do we run

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