Saturday, February 21, 2015


2 rancid derelicts on opposite ends of a subway.
populated w/ oozing sardine cans,
broken whiskey sighs. a zonked out druggie
 steering steel ward wheels, he whisper:
"Up On the Roof." lullabies slurred lolling.
down the aisle, his plexiglass eyes
stare off to frozen whorls of dust,
sweeping soiled newspapers spirals
up frosted fetid tunnels of arctic underworlds.

Empire state of minds. The anthem verse:
1 long tuberculoidial swing howl
keening through the sore postulates
of this endless winter march. here after.

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