new cleric armholes

Going to Pot

The Communists are organizing grumbles.
The empire neophytes need lighthouses.

We’re singing the virile draftee ballads of gelding escapades—

While women with pinched noses file reports with the Stasi.
The expansionist neocolonialists have a mercantile exchange they’d like you to join.

I stopped caring, but continued counting…

We expect the worst because humanity always disappoints. We take pride in our overactive suspicions.

Make new cleric armholes in this cilice—
I like my hairshirts roomy.
We’ve had enough of athletic cuts and fitted styles—

We’re going to pot with abandon.

What I’m Reading:

“I sharpened knives
All night.
To welcome you
In the brilliance of their blades…”

— Radmila Lazić / “Love”

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
This entry was posted in Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s