Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Tastes So Sick

you floss and hate
the candy and blood
and love tastes so sick

their eyes
are building mazes
because they war

cried for another,
a little world, been hated,
a little boy

the hip flies
slinging madness
the ticket part

be blonde someday
steaming catfish blonde
hauling the night

all grown up to hate that,
an old summer’s day
cool, job-rooted madmen

hot in the nile
shotgun the world
you’ve gone a-waving

in the city he kissed
my baby, I’ve seen him
a place too high

don’t be angles,
wave to windows,
a man protecting religion,

roaming over spaces
the land was feeling
such power in her hair

cover up the scars
I might cry, so I feel
as the sun in a play