where I get my thrills
in the time of the yellow moon
in the bleary air flowing heavenward
over the mushroom laden fields
across overgrown stone fences
strewn with thorn necklaces
branches lost in the machinery of light
when I was on an iceberg longing
for a shore to crash on
pronged forks knew this would be my fate
the meat of joy I lavished
with my craven spirit
looking for a keyhole in the high rocks
we are the ghosts of western civilization
bones on a diving board
dust drunk on gasoline
evaporating forward
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