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help me haul this nightTo Luke Buckham's previous piece     alarm clocks trampled on the sidewalk, massahTo Luke Buckham's next piece

forgetting all your wars
i swung my city scythe over the last diminishing hills
trampling the butt-ends of a long dream on a flattened earth
i sneak into silent corridors of bottlenecks
glass bellies shattered by ancient thirsts unquenched
confused by multiple horizons seen through a coughing telescope
finally a miracle after years of writing voiceless songs
finally all the colors strewn across every sky
time zones joined by fire
soldier flung by faceless three-piece suits 
through the fan-blades of my walls
did the best part of you land on my armchair
along with all your nonsensical medals?
here i am throwing an unsmoked cigarette
into the liquid-metal wake of the world
remembering the urge to jump overboard
on all those childhood deep-sea fishing trips
wanting to walk the backs of those whales who snorted at us
or pull a smirking hammerhead shark aboard
with my thin pole quieter than a typewriter
to snack on the senility of the fishermen's ideas
thermometer heart in idiot cloud
reach back for me through a dream of heavy-scented hair
through rooms of overpriced antiques
prisms of salt and glaciers fogged by diluted time
kitchens of legs walking without torsos
or one window of a face, carrying unidentifiable delicacies.
a television preacher walked away with all my mirrors  
downsized and tucked in a stack beneath his arm
odors powerful enough to reach through the ears
and tint the brain
come down my hot marble staircase
with static eyes in their long soft arms
guitar string necklaces showcasing the weakness of their necks
women of the unpainted ceiling with pupils of neon red
speak to me through memories of calm pond water
in war-torn backyards of sad chickens
hens laying eggs that the roosters peck in rhythm
i laughed at the whole scene 
through the chiming noise of a broken window
letting my shotgun rust across my knees. 

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