placebo pink as pretty as a fly
now sings my torso happy as a plum.
these gates that shield november from my skull
never open to persuasion for diminishing response
am too alike the privacy of entity and church
where each prayer bends and flickers on a face
in tandem with the image of a dirge.
direct my way your image not by sight
exorcise my anger from the pillows of the sun
sing sweet nostalgia pumping blood
through he of earth to he of common trial.
thirty years of silver standing still
evenings\' hill sprouts wings of pulse
flying through the matter to a dome of gray, as I
a scarecrow in a field of pigeon\'s skin.
am haunted by the senseless squeals
from a cabbage in a jar
as a herd of throats glide endless on my crotch.
there are too many holes to hide
my photographs of serum for my carpet vipers burn.
placebo pink as pretty as a fly
that shines my hue and helps me walk a mile
to where my brood of glitter knows no bounds
on communal grounds where the weathers cannot spy: