Leviathan Recycled for Everyday Use

Curbside silhouettes overlapped lawn-plots, stymied in green grass growth to honor Personal habits (a bit long in the tooth) Personal touch (herein) twigs scattered about the land in allegiance to organized chaos. /// (long nails) included in this instance, pinched the wood’s edges, delaying a march to waste baskets. A peasant located in the 19thContinue reading “Leviathan Recycled for Everyday Use”

Last Person to Know Her Name

1. A stranger in a blue wig rolled on the floor, Her eyes rolled too  Until sclera hues matched wall paint  Matched Styrofoam. Loose change  Founds its marks along the carpet.  Police entered and embedded dead Presidents In the fabric.  “What’s her name?” Reasons to name corpses. Soft kicks to hips. Officer knelt for prayer Continue reading “Last Person to Know Her Name”

Ode to City Parks as Metaphor for the Tax-Gap

City Park’s  Grass  Acclimates to foot-traffic,  Folds Like two parallels, never to meet.  Trophy fabric  Succumbs to the wind And smacks its clamp Against the metal flag-pole.  Clouds become Objects Familiar to imperial culture.  “I see a bear!” “I see a bull!”  Inside a shadow. Is it human?  Light pollution  Mired in smoke plumes  CurlsContinue reading “Ode to City Parks as Metaphor for the Tax-Gap”