19
writings to our mother
White Knife Plastic
-_- +=.y
Director Found Dead
Peyote trail wandering Arizona westward the - cool
drop silhouette burning throat as - glitch fingers drag
over ivory teeth, cut loose from saliva and self uncertainty.
Pounding in a beige tone wash
cover, the yellow cloud dissipates and white knife
plastic sits clear.
Small points move,
stay steady,
fall off
in grace of memory.
Sit, snake, sit
and be still, and
still be, when called.
Never leave your husk. Stay,
snake,
and die for me.
Peyote trail wandering South Ontario, lost in lampshade and drink. Mustard walls bleet as blue shutters
drone calm, pushing bastard livestock in rapture cabins; collapsing in exhaustion, black cauldron smoke
tails collide. Hurried,
though spacious,
melodies of intent get lost in transaction - blue motel
room nostalgia sickening, really - as made nostalgic
[and painted]
by blue collar painter boys; their milk hat polio practicing new ways to change your mood from good to