Tag Archives: france

The yellow corn

I don’t want
to grow
that fake ass
corn shit—
what is this
sterile poison—
are you kidding me—
you allow this—
we live here—
I would love
to see you drink it—
to see you dead—
I don’t want
to grow that
fake ass corn shit—
give me the blue stuff
some sunflowers too
with the pumpkins
inbetween
and the legumes
growin’ all up
’round the stalks—
I don’t want
to grow that
fake ass corn shit—
We’re not
your little
lab rats—We
can do it
ourselves—You lie—
say it’s the only way
to feed us all—You’re
full of shit—I aint
having any of it—
I’m goin’ down
to Peru—
I’m never coming
back hue—
You’ve lost
Your microbes
Lost your
Minds


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Dissociate

              how the moment
seems so much
                             longer
                                            more in-depth
        increasing
                                  in silver
                twilight                     
      he knew
          how to ride                   the winds
                               of words
  he knew
              he was never
  goin’ back                                           to that
                                                                 god dang

Far on the south
   side of the war
        machine, in
                a restaurant
   in France,
         with a date
                who doesn’t know
                         her black dress
        is visible from here
                         through the zero zero
                              capsule he ate
                                      nine hours before
                                            the wine—still
                    not enough time—
            the fan blowing
       on my face
in California