calyx:
Sunset is the wedding band
On god’s big blue hand when
He tucks America’s prairies
Under his ring finger
“Good morning Glory” he says
up to the kitchen sink, run
you’ve forgotten to water
your flowers and flip flop
flip flop
goes the balmy late night man
late at night in the balmy summer
carrying some grocery bags
walking drunk hot and trotting
white plastic splashing
think of the sand on the beaches
of Rio De Janiero all of its the filler
in god’s skull, a soft sack of beans
where he dreamed up the
Agricultural Revolution
see he gestures to his temple, his body
weathered, bodies weather
millions of biomarvelous
babies bumbumbling with guns
and that’s all he’s done.
The Great Poetic Testing of Hypotheses. It's a big red bow of ticker tape. You can see humanity in its eyes as you approach it with your overlarge scissors at the grand reopening of "I was just taking a personal call in a goddamn phone booth and the motherfucker just shot me in the head." In some weeks and months and days you will find that, indeed, you are dead. I am Jess. I am an English Creative Writing Student at the University of Iowa. Ask me stuff. Be interested, be interesting.
Theme by Monique Tendencia
