Wednesday, March 30, 2016

poem of the day 03.30.16

wednesday morning anywhere

edward hopper scenes
from across the periwinkle street

sad, slouching sacks of flesh
illuminated in amber windows

small mechanized moments
between sips on coffee and the morning news

d.j.’s with no wit selling air

the hours that are never ours
even when we have them at our fingertips

barking dogs and booming bass
car horns and boat horns

scalding showers and unsatisfactory breakfasts

conversations that pass
into blandness or accusations

a dead cockroach that needs to be flushed
while searching for the hangover cure

another mass this, another mass that

politicians hanging freedoms like nooses
around that old poplar tree

blood on the leaves

that latest infotainment rag
glorious hollywood tits, glorious new york ass

all sewn up and bought and sold

rollicking commerce sailing down the river
echoing merrily, merrily, merrily

life is but the american dream.


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