when foxes come

swallowing moonlight
with half naked humility,
aftertaste of unpleasant cloud
the day would sacrifice me,
me a host to the yellow sun
wrapped in a fleece
of further understanding,
a measure to the international indifference
patron to the act of ignorance,
this is a race, our race
spend life in an aggrieved chokehold
as time seeps the stupid sore
picked at by eager interference,
of state
in desperate need of rescue

ticking

ticking

only asses and chickens
claw at the dirt
spreading a mess
soiled by their own entrapment
it would be unforgiving
when the foxes come

sunday whirl

Fecal River

there has been a

spill and overflow

river once clear now

mucous thick,

abstract articles

floating past,

as i wonder where

it flows,

a meander

with tissue caught

on twigs,

testaments and 

statements

such utterances of

truth,

drying out gnawed

by feral rats,

how much further 

does it go,

the stench becomes

a taste infecting

each mouthful,

we used to believe

now unsure,

as a child a silver

mouthful could

be scooped as now

with pallid cheeks

look at the boiling 

mass beneath my

gaze