Friday, September 9, 2011

poem || Jeff Harrison


neighbors drip from the sky
under skyscrapers we'll find bio heat
there's no babytalk in this playhouse
white mouth's red smoke misspoke
throw this aside to read later
skeleton arms aren't fat for spit
not enough wolves for the millions, so relax,
what basks in ice can't be crueler than smoke
zeros billowing from the slivers, they're crash &
you clouds with satellites topple
the ground waits, the trees salute
your Book is maybe about skylines, Wormswork?
"make feathers not firmament dice,
the smallest rush up to bob for apples
the fool in my voice looks a lot like you,
future well-wishers,
& she who claimed to be the sleepiest isn't lying anymore

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