coolness that hides
everything known
still resides under the cover of darkest day
“do you go where I’m praying?”
“I couldn’t sue fat if I were Lou”
hobbled horses harried under houses of hay
hey you said the spade as he spaced beyond gourmet
I got your knife
plunged into the heart of softness and trepidation
world sitting still — not waiting, just resting
up for the big game
road trip to Atlantis or Mars
How many candy bars
can you hide in there?
believe you me it’s hot I think
so listen up good and quit saying things
quit playing games
he’s heavier than blank spaces on your faces
don’t you understand, I’m not dating a playboy bunny
and you think it’s funny
intersection of planets grown from barking dogs
stinking logs — foggy bogs
spitting grog into wooden pails
hammered down with nails found
in the ground piled into a mound
as you come around to hear the sound
of mace in your face
it’s no disgrace to be displaced
but to be erased is sinful
buy me a binful of those them there thangies
it’s still cool — to be a fool
just don’t drool into
the temperature barrier between us
invisible gaseous hate that lingers
women with stingers
that bite into your flesh
the corpse of Koresh — the voice of Tesh
mesh together but will never make sense
no recompense for the beggars of emotion
those whose souls have no motion
blink into the potion that steams before you
still breathing
still seething
watch your fingers — he’s teething
growing into wanton fringes
astronomical pleasures
extremist measures
and happy seizures that warm the soul
helpful hurting hemlock for the hungry
ghoul
applications of allegations and allocated angry
space it out
feel how stout fatigue can see
busy as a tree
looking back to the underside
pushing for petrified parties
and pealing papist drones
sleeping on ragged stones
walking toward sun-warmed bones
inside
your tortured innocent hide
the victims of conceptions
long-forgotten erections
“taint the round shrink”
unbirthed migrations of dormant dreams
it seems
to be harder than before
even though we’re done with war
still hunting for more
crumbled junctions misdirect the malfunctions
into dusted-over rambunctions
that carry you away from the fray
but no grumbling will be heard
no mumbling of his words
we won’t fumble it a third
time
don’t miss that last sign
up ahead just before you’re dead
breaking cover and find
turn the tide
and destroy the coolness that hides
in the depths of your mind