The Bill of Blights

Personal disbursements invade the interpersonal.
And syllables ruin quiet foments.
Bridges to undoing are fireballs 
rolling down wooden planks.
Light and its opposite: murk.

Sparrows talk hawks and 
which chases which?
Candles indite their makers;
whose spark is the progenitor's mark?

Pay and its ilk make the metaphors
that live by our sides
and fight our splits
to open us beyond our capacities.

It's a cure thing: make dis-ease 
out of better
and you have hypocrisy
brewing and aging
in a metal barrel 
waiting to bear our
to where we do not speak.

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