Sloptown

O 
     bsessions 

linger on the fingers
drilling into the tip of the nail
with a microparasitic bit

penetrating to the first knuckle
promising promising promising
the pow pow power vow

hillsiding rescinding 
winding up the wires
with the zeroes and dones

that fire the eyes that click and try
to become images of images
Aristotle's children

fighting in the backseat
sweltering in the meat 
of the bones that the oxtail

offered without offering
to a table of bleeding hands
potent as the efficacy denominator

without cause to care 
about the wear on the tear
because its all about tare

even up as the just
icing out the rust 
and becoming a ship without a cause

pausing and grousing
under the sagebrush
becoming something western

and less than besting
confessions
slopping around in the bowl

eat and drink, bowl to mouth
and this will be the beginning
of the end of all that has gone

south of the south of the south
and other modicum judgments
against parts of a sphere

whose fears are less
whose gears were never 
professed.