Monday, July 23, 2012

Murder Machine No. 41

Copper and seared bolts, garnishees brandishing
Coke bottles with simmering caps, molten
glass, you name it, what a dollar can buy,
and right off the set, the field, the dumb-dumb
bullet shattering in the lungs, goodness, how
the brain weeps, drains, captives or morons,
no need to know, not really, need
to simplify, that's all, be vigilant and armed.
Zeus would have escaped, turned nails into fudge,
chewed his way out, yum-yum, and knocked
off a piece for good measure. Steam up the flowers,
the windows, keep your eyes on ascensions, dangerous
buggers that can come back to haunt you. Marsh plants
don't suffer from excessive moisture, nor should you.

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