Friday, February 12, 2010

give ‘em hell miss carousel

the flesh of things withers and disappears like cotton candy in water

a question begged of mercy

a strain on the quality of light being sought after

and then of course the tempering of resistance with malice and pulled pork sandwiches

the rights of way always belong to some unknown somebody

we merely have ways of going down the road feeling bad

the glibness of sanity is the horror of being alive

the truth of love is the curve of leg

greet memories with chopsticks and poppies

have breakfast under a tidal wave

the hurt of today’s hunch is the luck of yesterday’s burglary

we are the means of a never ending try

we are the gristle cut from the bone

there is no respite from the lurch in the wheels of the thing

just an unsatisfying lapse in judgment

that just might

with the right kind of eyes

at least

get one thrown in jail


at least

99 years