bring on the death of nameless oven days
the Crayola cancer drips of waxy sun
walls fading like the ends of hopeful films
skin so pasty soft with dripping brutal light
as the eyes that fall within themselves
swirl in dreams of barely cooler thought
the pallid concrete cracks absorb all life
those little steps upon the liquid stairs
where children trip and burn their soggy knees
a crooked man crawls a fiery crooked path
cows align themselves with baked straw breath
hefting chiseled chins onto ancient wooden limbs
lips so thickly dark sit now deflated
as tongues of homeless desert rags
hang from pillars of flattened bone
this wet and goddamn arrogant summer
this broiling unleaving unloved relative of time
beading the gaps of fly swarmed flesh
making odors of every tactile wish
spreading molten dirty breath
to splatter beneath the canopy of
unendurable midday toil
let it melt forever now
let cold and sullen skies
arrive
___
Adam Middleton-Watts hides out on the plains of South Dakota. He often drinks too much overpriced ale, and when he's not counting bison or falling into prairie dog holes, he's penning poems and short tales on the backs of unpaid utility bills.
the Crayola cancer drips of waxy sun
walls fading like the ends of hopeful films
skin so pasty soft with dripping brutal light
as the eyes that fall within themselves
swirl in dreams of barely cooler thought
the pallid concrete cracks absorb all life
those little steps upon the liquid stairs
where children trip and burn their soggy knees
a crooked man crawls a fiery crooked path
cows align themselves with baked straw breath
hefting chiseled chins onto ancient wooden limbs
lips so thickly dark sit now deflated
as tongues of homeless desert rags
hang from pillars of flattened bone
this wet and goddamn arrogant summer
this broiling unleaving unloved relative of time
beading the gaps of fly swarmed flesh
making odors of every tactile wish
spreading molten dirty breath
to splatter beneath the canopy of
unendurable midday toil
let it melt forever now
let cold and sullen skies
arrive
___
Adam Middleton-Watts hides out on the plains of South Dakota. He often drinks too much overpriced ale, and when he's not counting bison or falling into prairie dog holes, he's penning poems and short tales on the backs of unpaid utility bills.
