Sunday, May 24, 2009


The air is thick with automotive farts
My eyes burn with the sewered scent;
The television warns our dimes are parched –
My pocket book weighs less than rent

Sulphur isn't so bad with the proper guard,
Tomorrow the leaves will die and fall
Sautéed and golden: a perfect rosy park -
Removing the deer for the industrial mall

I watch the air move and feign its way
Through dark clouds of labour-laden breath;
Mockingbirds, robins heave and sigh –
Songs deprecated for a small swallow's death:

O I miss the sheared green grass –
Blue skies have mated with epic adultery;
Oil is brandished on our helpless lives
Imputed for our swollen Uncle's perjury

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