All things are flowing,
Sage Heracleitus says;
But a tawdry cheapness
Shall outlast our glaze.
—Ezra Poundcake

I plug into the wall and all my memories and the danger
light up my brain, get mixed up in one light
mess—like a fly by night carnival ride spinning so
fast it would kill you or at least make you sick to death.
Over the shoulder under the awning and into the churros

cleats, vomit in the brainwork, the single file of dream
extras with their clay thunder faces waiting on Fully
Sitting Duck to reel the last crew of kids halfway to… Continue reading...