Orbit Coset

Planes break up
a world of wet sand
amass dimension
overcome boyscout humidity
by mast ignition
lightning stripes
the collar or can

in the quest for bonfires
and timetables optimized and controlled
by simple trade-offs
jobs or weather
a few inches off the neck
marks a species of brass ringlet

where I had green curried meat off menu
flesh traded high
fives slapping thighs
you have to know to ask
but they were bolted to a shibboleth
we could not understand

*

the ants followed chemical messengers around my fingers
as arrows or bullets find their men
targets eroded in the rock
proof the land has changed
why should he smile
the harvest-son
slightly stupid
cut open his heart
wrap it round a trunk

with aristocratic contempt
for the blood-lust of the populace
one sees the shadows of public life
in the arcade ritual
the lyric choir of labourers
in a hole in the ground
under the flag born tree
when burned gives off
a smoke far-famed for inducing visions

a keyhole window framed the compositions
filled with dull stuffing
a stranger at the entrance to her chamber
the mystery of the mountain in her trance

*

A pattern cuts across intention
in decandence's efflorescence and collapse
A bone breaker or tamer of horses lies
dead as he must
but statistically speaking the same man.
Then the blood is read — a mandatory votary
voluntarily retires. Sunflares glint
beneath the dead man's eyelids, flies
the outside choir
source of all comparisons.
Fear of breeding worms itself then rots
the body.


Let us consider now a different outcoming
a crossroads spinning in the head
with the song, a challenge to our
integrity.
fixed in tin & gold
it bests our courage
and then
We sit down at our beloved chair
and guarantee our dinner.
Eating it
dead-knit to the living, a lamb
of fine breeding, dull, a ready grin.

*

much later

some fan spun around a ceiling
or parking lot like clotted oil

but down to the intern ex
up anti fact you know already

a crane to lift that wit

a tomato we thought would kill us

some pseudo syrup psy-op cyclops roundup

"discriminations"

police uniform & boots do not a fake
policeman make