We Will Get Rich at The Funeral
We will be the liberators. We will not execute
anyone, regardless of race, creed, sexual orientation,
Or current credit score from all three major credit
rating agencies. We will fill libraries with mystic rocks
And mini-bars. We will insist that all the fathers
make amends to their daughters. No one will commit
Suicide. All Mormons will be unbaptized and turned
into Jews or atheists. Judges will set everyone free
But no one will want to be let go. Suffering is loneliness.
Sorrow grows on bones like moss on a rock.
You can look it up. Look up at the people
in the windows looking down on us. Make them take
A baby aspirin every day. Tell them you mean them no harm.
Make them fall backwards into your waiting arms.
Change of Climate
Peacocks meander through the fertile plain.
They are a royal pain. Do not try to sit one in your lap.
It would take a solitary metaphor as red as
a heart to make those birds depart.
Beggars beg beneath troubled skies,
the radio playing oracular sighs of doom.
If you let them in your room, all is lost.
It’s a high cost to pay for absolutely nothing.
Let the cantos and centos gather up mementos
so no one may forget the ghost of the sea
coast, now on fire like a burning bush
of desire. The cash turned all to trash.