THEIR POOLS
Unbearably serene,
Their pools collect the absolute
In fortified gothic casinos
Lint free and buffed as desired
Unsettled as a vacuum,
My shrines are removed using long ropes
An exhausted tagline is hissing
From the inhibitor of sour lamps
Pigs everywhere, sterilizing scalpels,
Passing ironic gas and epitaphs
I depend upon them to blend my quiet detonation,
I pulverize
Tendrils of pulp toward ripe destinations
And the graves insert impacted antlers,
Shirtless and digging up for my nightmare
A vain butter flickering supreme vinegar
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