About the Shadow of the Crawl;

for all I know about the shadow of the crawl

where spits the wind. where clouds the flesh of speech

through lamps of asylums twisted throat of char and curse.

why am I to digest my mothers milk through my fathers clarinet?

with rations enough to parade through streets on wheelbarrow eggs

so of the beginning, so ends the arsonists cloning of pig tail and swill

am I six feet below or six feet above from where started this bashful limp?

on days where came the rejoicing, of the lunatic and the spit roast fig;

for all I know about the shadow of the crawl

where carpets the corpse. where hides intrusion of the brain;

psychotic ink for the writing of the crushed skulls will

for all I know about the blanket and the shawl;

ears of disparaging thought, as screams for the shutting down;

who am I to unravel the intestines of Jupiter's cock tailed bars?

choices for the bereaved, torn between madness and the afterglow

what am I to achieve from the cloning of pig tail and swill?