line poems
pomes got no legs
NO legs
to stand on,
no more words
empty corridors
yellow lit hallways
muffled sound of
breathing in some
forgotten room
after hours
after ours
they've gone away
one at a time
bomb
sprinkle earth with
our dust momma
git eet right
get it down,
sure,
you ain't a'frid brotha?
sure it's goin' down
smooth?
sure as hell
he
ain't
there're no red lines
on the clock
a blank face
a void
coughs back,
caparisoned in
fluorescent rags
we take one final step
piss off.
you heard me.
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