APPLIANCE IN THE BALONEY SHIELD SEANCE IN THE BALONEY SHIELD APPLIANCE IN THE PHONY SHIELD
The camouflage is moving All the people not there. Tomb store.
I need money because of the cattle. I need money because I don't feel The tree I walk around.
It is a tree my body cannot believe. Sick heaven of brown now. To last is so cold plate.
I am past riding in my car. A slow bubble out of a telephone pole. I call nothing all.
Decapitation then Cheerios. And one by one a picked be Makes me talk as if with some heart.
Private deathbeds full of pleasure Are what I see when I hear my thoughts. I am more along than ever.
RETURN TO THE STARTING DAY
It is a windy grass The moon has used. It is the hour I remember old grass. Clouds working and laughing and sticking it to me.
And halls of sea. And explosions of backs. And friends exchange ass cracks. Friends change houses.
I think a sea of death is the greatest fun. I am diving into death with new leaves. And halls of my back blacken. I hate my family.
WAKING WHERE WAKING DOESN'T STINK, WAKING
Where wheels don't stink. Where I feel tiny insides of the dawn. There she is starting up the stairs. Material, I love you.
And then there's the whole country. And then there's breakfast. Heavy books for a kitchen floor. The knock of the sunlight insists it's right. I am a good man and a bad man. An orchid covered with didn't skins. My hands covered with veiny batteries. I hate the white man.
20 years or so go past. She is sneezing books of salty tracings. I love being left to decay. I rise from bed for days.