Thursday, October 20, 2016

8765. TWO WEEKS FROM THE DATE

TWO WEEKS FROM 
THE DEATH
I mark my place by lethargy, and 
an army of ants running circles 
through hot water. Lately they 
curl up, to die. The city street 
remains a nightmare, as we
each take tendencies of ants.
-
To the tune of the immortals, we
seem way off-key  -   leather-stroking
memories of happenstance and want.
They give us all, but we pick and 
chose; these windlass ways within 
a chalice. The myths of all those
ancient Geeks, thy're nothing
but orange-tongue decoration.
-
So let me alone as I take to the road :
farmers firing fallow fields; a torch
to the lickety splits.


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