The End of Pretend

The waters' random flash of indifference
to a verbal performance of morality
burbles like a crude Marinetti sparkling wine.
An obituary is no philosophy;
The forbidden and impossible look the same to your eyes
with the addition of a revelation or a shrewd disguise
a bikini bottom snuggly tugging around Niagara
or up towards the glutted breakwater.
The difference between to think and to believe
as if it were a parasite to be cleansed of before rising
to be heaved and hewn out of gull shadows flocking
far from the attics they jewel with oiled crystal conveniences;
or how wheels roll and how wheels within wheels follow
a matter of a chariot and the wing-marks in the sand
for those who are able to understand, by and for and just themselves;
or wisdom and the word wisdom, or in and of the word.
Toiling silence snips at fingertips
like a bitch's nipples quivering as she pants
the wedding party like a row of ducks in strapless uniformity.
What colours pattern the wings
of books and butterflies pinned down on the town?
The alliance of the eastern provinces against deportation and red crime
welcomes you to the addictions, mental health, and gallery district
joyfully not listed in chronological order
and a very nice place to buy a condo. In a bathroom window
beneath the tulips of truth or the vulgar imagination
points the icon of the root or the down arrow.