yesterday caught up, panting,

riding the crashed cash of signed association

and mimicked accusations of bleak envy

with several scenes already written

most earning a one star rating

from the hindsight of double scrutiny

 

were that jeopardy a statute of memory

nervous cats might not need to dress to impress

and hide non fictional facts from

the dirty worded rakings, presuming

fierce talents in a framework of three,

sufficient to cover any beauty

 

board the swelling brawl and groove the tongue

clean with hungry promises to forgive

the offer of carbon protection for my shirts

because, from where I stand, I can count

the Catholics lost, per week,

on the fingers of both grimy hands

 

and starving converts will live on candles alone,

play to the silver tossed crowds, miscast

through mystery and unravelled just long enough

to observe a holy concern in the reflections

shared within the painful portraits of shined boots

the miracle parcels of shattering leather

 

lessons executed separate the atrocious

from the rhythmic mass where strangers fall

as rockets that lack the courage of flowers

you know the rainy days cannot be saved

once eyes request pennies where ingots would not suffice

sunbursts must fit a wandering itch

 

is this too dense? can you tell what it is yet?

or is it you that brought the fog

with the stagger shoed tarry blond

fucked up at 10am and washed onto the

shoreline of polite company, cigarette leached,

resplendent in your abhorrent chemistry