riding down the west side or the east side,
spiralling oblong, twisting, hurting,
blinding into rich hunger rendered grey by
obsolete broomsticks jumbled in the
outcast‘s corner among corked baseball bats and
2-chord rock and roll oratorios dictated by
illiterate icons to salieri and his celebrating
cronies going home to precious drunkards roasting
baloney meatloaf according to australian rules which
implore all individuals to fundamentally change the
fabric of established cultures and public spaces in the
interest of armed nooses and spike-tongued
sea creatures whose hyphenless way of floating within
canyons of darkness renders confusion among
vibrationless entities of death and incomprehensible silence,
at the bottoms of the sea where silence travels more rapidly than
unctuous flirtations of sunken whales and crushed dolphins,
the cartilege squeezed asunder from the nimble frame seen
leaping from the waters of the bay and plunging to the
deeps like the bodies from the bridges above.