By the vultures boozing above
in the lilt of southwest windy
updrafts. By the high water
mark of the Superstitions
& Apache legends
of the Great Flood.
By the virtue of endless need.
By the very tuckus
of the Great Teacher:
perpetual defeat.
By all of that easily
brain washable shit
we keep throwing
at that Wall, ya' all.
By the acceptable volume
of pee in all strawberry soda.
By all those new rats on the roof.
By all those skunks chased
into a corner beneath wooden floors.
By the seamless ineptitude
of the Masters of the Universe.
By all those false moves.
By the many Nostradami so in vogue,
elated passionate prophets (profits)
looking for lambs to whack & rack.
By donors paid back
in double. Oh, the trouble.
By the four horses
fed buckets of babble
in the stable of great evil.
By the sun-glazed graffiti
on railroad boxcars.
By noxious weeds
breaking through cracked sidewalks.
By bits of glass. By pixilated deserts,
greedy desserts & words that hurt
& crushed stones & bottle caps
& broken arrows & the faint memory
of truth on our tongues ...
I call to you, Red King!
Bishop to Knight five ...
You better tighten your belt.
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