montréal/poetry/spokenword/world

Distinct glitches

It is at the edge of the imploding crisis
That we accepted the perpetual sentence
Of your treaty written in sawed off words
Or the lax assurance of impending turmoil

With death closer than our best
Ennemy maybe not today
Nearby as in uncimenting the very wall
Of lies laid upwards as law

Brick by brick in remorse or English
To the rag of the new day worn
Like a bloody flag all will surrender
To your ineffable beauty

On a set of the sky crashing
With this ladder all the way up
To the heavens as they were written
Tatooed on clouds of confessions

Overdosing on never enough
Itching to cross over and stuff
The absolute stillness of never having had
Time to wait crumbles before and after shots

The shells hitting in sync with the rest
Of reality’s dominoes, the facts
Some shortcuts in glitch renderings
The historical record up in red flames

And it’s severed thumb in the cup
We drink whisky together in
Keeps the war wound clean with a round
Of golf sized hail reeks of insider trampling

But that is the very weekend
When everything has gone camping
Always answering to the call of nature
With every windowless opportunity.

 

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