The Sweet Old Sound of Salt



She rented out my sheen

Shook the postman down

Fed me down to lean

Fixed up that old discarded crown


Oh sapphire’d sky of absence

I’m shoving off a rune

Here you sup with control and sense

You’re leafing through old plumes


I tried to laugh, I fought to cry

I felt my empty pocket

Now running from a bleeding eye

I’m cumming into fuck it


Lights bright the way

Great gifted children in a linear laugh

Cold bollinger bolsters the pain

Clap the cheering strapped carafe




Greyhound chestnut coffee mesh

Reflected mornings in her skin

A silence of flesh

Wrought by masks, men in tin


I had to have her then

Rotted rememberings unfurled my arm

I crapped my pen

For flinging words at her, intending harm


How did you know? Was it the coast?

Banded and flayed, in your entirety

Frying plans to swallow our host

An effortless calamity


Them dunes we rush amongst

Our wind, our stripped guide

Running here has filled my lungs

Broken glass and acid tides




She rented out my mean

Relocated men to fill her shell

Oh so serum soft it seemed

She’ll cull the fuck out of my swell


But having shed such visions now

I can pedal summer

Green and blue and quacking fowl

Mine are freckles on a valley plum


Simple calculations made in window’d light

The repetition of a gaudy coin

Competition I was born to bite

All I wished for dressed in foil


Today we rode a waltz

Old military shoulders tipping hats

All akin to the sweet old sound of salt

Singing brought the flood, a cleansing collapse



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