Three Poems

It’s a new government step up get your eats. My face chocolate-covered would you care for butter on your breasts. We’re on the sides and fire creeps we are rooting new man with rules, place them down
command, word is out.

Who’s in the group of invisible raise your hand. Are you old, four-legged, do you live in another world?


The screen depicts reality: here’s how some love here’s how some rage.

The cowboy torch passed one rough hand to another horses neck to neck.
Lasso colors and put in pocket. Kick a bull in its balls. Spit out wad jeans go a’flapping. Wild ones here we come.

We barely talk about prospering land that is even a little dying. The birds call green but with a loss. If your face touched you may go straight under, they’d poke a flag and say one lost life.


Take your tins and glass shuffle. Take broom smashing things with tails, waving high when asked. Roping sections saying this is my land, taking steps back waving a fan jumping a wind breeze quick to the steps behind the wood of it back to a beverage that’s boiled.


Hot, waving down tenants alarming them of day soaked with premonitions white flashes took off clothes. Residents heard gunshots motorcycles roared. Artists at one place sideswiped to another. Skin, carrier pouches, messages to transfer.


I will vote I will give money. The ship is directing I must get to the hot lights, not look at what’s below water not feel unsteady metal push my feet. Because he came from without money he can talk to poor. The farmers gather and he says values. The other one stands aside remarkable for confidence.

Are all artists out to play door opened for tea and cakes. Is their hair hot. Are they down the red tube, artists come find me.













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