The stench blended round mice
marketing numb pickup trucks
shooting delicate rackets,
brushing shattered canyons
covered with windy, chaotic waves
barking against shields
plunging and rocking dry, marvelous tarantulas
hanging on turquoise roofs
marking echoes of dark dips
in the furry dust.
Alcoholism, American Culture, Angels, Art, Death, Depression, Failure, Fear, Isolation, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Spirituality, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on April 15, 2011, 8:08 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
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#1 by siubhan on April 18, 2011 - 9:21 pm
Wonderfully cacophonous. (Although the “flaming monkeys” from I. also caught my eye.)
#2 by Carl on April 18, 2011 - 10:22 pm
Thank you so much! These were big experiments. I was hoping they weren’t too flat in their nonsensical surrealism