Dog Eye Bone
DOG EYE BONE
The city
That butcher
Hacks
Through meat and bone
And I snap at the pieces
My muzzle gnaws
Drops
And
Gnaws
Drops
And
Snaps
At another
And another
Another
Another
My dog eye bone
Tense
At the presence of other muzzles
Snapping at choice cuts of meat
I growl with savage hunger
Never satisfied
Because
There’s always another
And yet no one
I can swallow
To nourish my soul
IN THIS CHICKEN COOP
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IN THIS CHICKEN COOP
In this chicken coop
We are
Economic transactions
Paying prices
Set and stamped
Pecking at bar codes
Like chickens
QQQQQQQ QQQQQQQ
Quantity
QQQQQQQ QQQQQQQ
Quantity
Willingly we enter
Massive barns
Like warehouses
And we con con constantly
Consume
The lowest price
Which dictates law
The selection has been made
A fat little finger with a gold diamond ring
Pointing either to the right or the left
On the shelf the result
Products strong enough to be made use of
All standing at attention
Ready for our inspection
Well placed at eye level
Yes the lucky ones
With bar codes tattooed upon their backs.
Outside the sky is blackened
By the chimneys
Busy recycling
The feeble independents
And the cremated labeled outlaws
Are repackaged, and sold as compost
Gardening
Aisle 4
We continue
Con con consuming
Fattening ourselves
While breeders record statistics
And the grease of maximum efficiency
Keeps the d-boning machine
Well lubricated.
STATIC
STATIC
The radio was playing
Broadcasting
And we were communicating
But I thought I could do better
So I tried to say more
From the frequency stationed in my mind
With an adjustment
I thought I could
get my voice
and message clearer
And so I moved the dial
Raised the antenna
And my tongue fumbled
Now there’s static
And garbled words
A multitude of voices
Struggling to say something
Nothing makes sense
And I’m sorry to have touched the dial
But I had to try
To tune in with you.
To the Candy Princess
To the Candy Princess
From This Field
From this poppy field
I confess
I’m comfortable
From here I contemplate
Listening to echo’s
With my minds memory playing out
The Symphonie Fantastique
Re-remembering the dance I danced
At La BAL
From this field
I can see and hear them
Busy busy bees
Busy body bees
Buzzing around your flower
And some of them old pricks
Peckers ready to penetrate and pollinate
And even the wasps and horny hornets seem to smell your candy
Annoying, persistent buggers
Wanting to suck
Your sugary sweet secretions in the sun
Always at the ready with their sting-hers’
From here I can see
It’s best not to get too close
Pick no flowers
Roll in the weed
And stare at the stars in silence








