This appears in a pre-2010 issue
of cc&d magazine.
Saddle-stitched issues are no longer
printed, but you can requesting it
“re-released” through amazon sale
as a 6" x 9" ISBN# book! Email us for re-release to order.
Radio waves blend into the bedtime air
Making it hilly
Arousing it
A mirror ripples
Their stethoscopes act as evil audience
To the pulse of my arteries
To the wheeze of my lungs
To the squish of my eyeballs
Under their combat boots.
Their veined eyes peer from murky onyx alleys and
Accentuate their scorched earth policy.
The prose is purple
Let alone high on treble
Cheap and lazy comedy to them
The seashell to your ear hums of
The slither of eels over mud and
The blunt tap dance of static and
The crackle of imploding skulls and
The lick of the fire alive
A dirigible framed against the angry stars
Unleashed
A thing never to plant itself on the earth again
My carcass dances a wormy jostle below
I don’t look like that anymore
Then the crash of an electric wail:
A sea of lamps minus the shades
Gently bob and
Pulse with erratic currentÉ
All this so they can see me and feel me and hear me
Tune into my red vessels, hear their tunneled screams, see if I’m lying