(~)

They say in the news there are trapezoid clouds
all over the cities flaunting gasoline-speak,
but the raindrops are as shapeless as ever
and you need plenty of ears to hear them fall.
The residents chew ground glass in the closets,
kiss the windows with their internal organs,
leave handprints on a mirror-like sun,
sacrifice children to dog-eared books,
embrace sleeping fires of the forests, and do
many other things you would fail to notice.
It is easy to burn the crumbs of time in your mouth
or compressed aeons on forgotten burial grounds
(and forbidden pictures of a family gone postal)
where feline conductors perform kitschy music of the dead
and the mother of the gods, benefactor of lesbians, lover of iron deer
sits on a mossy stone laughing at cavorting chipmunks.

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