Rogue Again

The concertina that

made the wind seem

cruel, was washed ashore.

Shine and break

with the windowed glass

to that deep and rolling pure.

Cocaine clusters clatter

and roll on clumps of clay;

these days we don’t look down.

This land bleeds wet bubbles

a stiff breeze gargles as it sweeps by;

bulging, jealous eyes weep gold.

Orgastic lungs feed the dunes

but the ground is ever fading

to another that calls its name.

Finally, the day is no longer

like the shadows that flickered

and died; emaciated and vulgar.


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