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By series: Bridge St  In Yr Ear  Ruthless Grip

machine into water 5

where are we supposed
to concentrate if not upon
water which is washing
upon shores and shores
receding under the attack
of many kinds of evictions.
Notes stacked up in view
of fire. Or warmth
presented by landlord by
strongholds this my darling
fortress my boiling oil
or simmering volcano
this the crack in the earth
the pie the piece thereof
and if this smoking fissure
would blow did blow will
blow then do we drop
melons from the sky filled
with the seeds of declawed
fruits and neutralized neutrinos
and do they burst upon
impact wetly and fiercely
to nestle nicely within
lung, spleen, liver & kidney
those cleansing organs
are themselves cleansed
and lit up within the body
with the green fires of
dissemination my landlord
how did we come to this
lack of fixtures, of door,
of entry points, my enforcer,
my policeman. You too
can be the radioactive
cleanser of our city, with
your oxygen bubbles
releasing fiery into the
filthy corners of my
body, your nightstick
of the hemoglobin, your
plastic handcuffs of
the T-cells, tromping
off to those isolated
islands, to lament the
fruity explosions
of the air. This watery
substance then is
my blood? yours
as well washing upon
the shores of
memory and
stopping for one
second as a wave
will stop before
breaking, before
sand is erased
under the overflow
of tension and
of thoughtfulness,
our water washes
upon each other
as either of us
cleanse the other
and is
the over