living a patient bourgeois life
as time fritters my charms away
i read lamantia and his dreamlike horror
of all the surrounding implications
red lit clouds and the sky or rain
in the inner dissensions of things
the things that come next
like a searchlight can't stop
and whatever is in the beam
of the cone of light is death
poems offered to starving minds
offered to starving eyes offered like
clouds of offerings from a holy meal
that might be catered to in the nick
of time for motorcycles owls
in the inner dissensions of things
don't step out into the cold
for your share of horror
until you've been fed
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for Latif Williams
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