hosetown

the stars, sick of sky, ate earth
to puke up blue and green frack lakes
from a palate too full---

no lie told the skull lined trail
no fantasy or sex modeled the clay demise.
a token monolith, my crumb

call it houston, under
the grease grey smudge spout of glamour
the clamor to eat earth wastingly

the stars built houston
as cancer builds a hollowed home itself-evicted,
rockets, frozen embryo diners or not.

no fable was the last alamo tourist eaten by a saudi
high school girl with a valid visa
and a picture of bobby in her kimono's

skill-honed travois? were the guts
of the stars made better
by wishing earth away in fracks?

broke egg mountain

climbing mount hood in the winter
they fall and break their eggs
oh where is our chicken now?
there in a glacial pen.
feed us, little hen, eat a snowflake.
here comes the helicopter,
do now not fly o winter recreation fowl.
we need eggs at the summit,
farmer fresh i carry thee.
my canteen of petrol will fry your orb,
rocky or not
the city of brotherly love is founded on the shells of giants.
there, a foodcart space is reserved
we will level the place momentarily
there egg safe will unite
& pine oil fry icarus wings of junebugs
hatched mid jan

the steeple tug, or pineapples of the dalles

the steeple tug sank, full of slaves:
the harbor burned, full of witches ignited:
the armory melted with ignorance more volatile:
the pulpit-mobile was misappropriated go and figure:
the stores once looted were vacant:
the library more full than ever with deer:
the dock was tarnished with commie sympathy:
the bakery cold useless, moths going freely with chaff on the chin:
the slaves once out of the steeple tug wore harbor water:
that had burned:
and was such blessed, in the weird american way:
sold downstream for a pretty bitcoin:
it were hard to get the burnt witch off the slave smell:
but the weaning bee taxed it off to texas:
and that was fat: