Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Neo-Con-carnate

          each line drawn across the globe
many steps to bring down buildings
   
     boots for
         
          the milling crowds
smile on the faces of decadent flowers
   
     crumpled to bits
       
           by plague
there's this refrigerator door
   
     left open uninstalled
       
          in the basement cold
through prison bars
   
     what it bakes
         
          it makes up for in flesh
cooking their essence ankle deep

     wailing against the white brick

          bent to cylinder shape
stabbed into the heart of the welted world.

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