Fat Years Slumping Against A Lean Tree

26 Jun

But, well, you know, now that I've had a chance to catch my breath
I think I'll toss it back to where it originated—
perhaps the passionate sky, perhaps the breezy snarling dark rascal sea,
home of the brave, land of the free, on leave of its seven senses, reporting for liberty,
so yes, dear traditions, dear future dissent, yes...
I think from the stretch I'll sling history a drink,
or perhaps this pilloried act calls for a pale bitter drunk,
system preferences, sudden diamonds, auguring monuments unfair;
hoarded relics of the failed selfish mind, they say.
To stand for nothing except regulation and welfare—we sit.

Twas twice as fun as fun
is now in this delapidated state,
and anybody with three kicks in a jar
knew there was not much she could do for him
thrashing against his own amber grains of health and demise
in that verbal frame of mind, so she said yes, dear, yes...

With four friends in Minnesota, who needs Oklahoma?
The voice of Thud is rethreaded for each plateau. Yes, oratorical vegetation crawls
along the stripped naked legs of cheap one trick night stands,
fully developed for export and phantom gateways.

Yes, there will be syrup drinkers,
heavy on perspiration, chilly in their socks, carnal nomads riding genetic art
supply on the move from cryptic backwaters to the front burners.
            Four score and another withers, quarreling, the night becomes long
to certain characters no one can afford to fight without tasting. Consume me,
said the son of last words, I repeatedly remark, which makes
me a twinge not a twerp despite evidences brought to Cincinnatus.

Just as fear was seen galloping away in a history book,
the awkward rebellion had to be bricked up by invaders,
so she said, yes dear. Grownup girls in old B&W films were almost
too smart for the vote, and now their progeny
have removed all doubt. Accomplishment
might be a French word
I can't quite recall

because I am referencing you scented
in an absurd pigeon blue towel of St. Augustine,
whose nervy confessions and gold-tinted cities
were rigged to resist regimentation from the beginning.

With just this much stubborn identity going for me, Steve grabs Gene
like some whiskey-stenched sycophant. There in the Dollhouse
a general sort of plunder similar to how a flower grows, unfolded
until our struggle had no choice but to assuage the wild cities
                                                                                               we erected.
So I gave my "Gene Loves Gabriel" moment to Stephen. God—even in my side
stepping sort of hallelujah mind, plane orthography
finds a revolutionary glyph to dance against.

Did I remind you I rarely forget the forgotten
or the framed? Each tweak of the spy was inferenced
with just these clues. I found myself alone hoping
someone would miss me sang the former Cat Stevens
before he jumped for joy on the other side of eternity.

There is much we have heard but not cooled,
and much we have cooled but not heard. With the sun
everything is hot and Boas changes very little among these notions,
and, uh, eventually I was ordered to stop, look, and listen.

So have a good test drive baby,
ancient astronaut theory is now peaking.

[ 1996, Washington DC ]

© 1996 - 2013, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""