after summer

In rotten cities
where our money is

We stow our
spoiled bone

And wait for a few shreds
of unprecedented metaphor

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The Stand Ins

They make moments talk
by roughing up everything incidental

And they enjoy their doomed life together
beyond changes

Their destruction untangling it all

A tattered, honest
shape to carry out to sea

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around, not old

you're accustomed to talk
so perhaps a wrinkle
can throw you off

those years being made
less cerebral

it will come down to
thinking you lasted

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young time

these guys down their belief
like martinis

all night

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Moving Day

It's hard knowing well
the old done away

But reality
was moving

And endless horns I had already held dreaming
Planned the day I had already begun to hate

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