Towering letterblock buildings were breathing adrenaline shocks Bubbles of bacterium drip snot where if whitefish knocks The huddlebird sings a broken tune of igloos without atomic clocks And the b52 blizzard is as white and thick as double layered socks
The plastic captain of the steamboat Whistles without sound Comanche ranger of Death Valley Feels the trembling ground Come, the cavalry general cries, Off to the dark frontier! But he’s the first to back away From the unknown’s frightening leer. For in the lonely wilderness The heart is cruelly wrung, And all the disembodied songs Are sung in foreign tongues
The cattle flee their slaughter-house In caravans of pink; Sought in soot and speckled jet The shadow hides in ink. A fever pitch of screeching bats Send eyeballs flailing free, As the man of maddened thoughts Is wondering who to be. The bum who seems to mirror me Is lost in hot free fall In coke and crystal meth he melts To tickings on the wall. A shotgun blast shatters past A melon-headed fool Who, in his haste to blame the gun, Forgets it’s just a tool.
