Rogue Again
The concertina that
made the wind seem
cruel, was washed ashore.
Shine and break
with the windowed glass
to that deep and rolling pure.
Cocaine clusters clatter
and roll on clumps of clay;
these days we don’t look down.
This land bleeds wet bubbles
a stiff breeze gargles as it sweeps by;
bulging, jealous eyes weep gold.
Orgastic lungs feed the dunes
but the ground is ever fading
to another that calls its name.
Finally, the day is no longer
like the shadows that flickered
and died; emaciated and vulgar.
