Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Second Suicide

 Once for CBY, but not anymore

I divined it from oracles that 
You buried with a spoon
You bore your prophecy
On a hazy Thursday afternoon
And it was all in the telling
A simple hint of further
Transgression its all about
The word the harmony the
Simple design of you now
That the frost has melted
On your windshield. 

No more apocalyptic plans
Where your every word is
A cinder and every gesture
A spot on the line 
We just amble along
With wet feet clinging 
Like dew on the Jack-in-the-Pulpits

Go ahead feel over your
Collar bone it is heavy 
It is like yesterday’s stones
You were assembled without an
Eye for detail with bones and sinews
Out of all semblance of space
I expected to find your shins,
Your ribs your legs all sprawled
On this path

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