Bullets

a firecracker in a munitions tent
kills thousands accidentally...

civilians rise and fall,
their water washing
the moons and skies.
the earth groans and shows her belly

while we, sleepless,
make bullets all night
to shoot into the ground.

Oxidize

If ever was
the price of daydreams seen,
and the crowds of background fragments
released through splintered skulls
a cataract...

Against the congealed rag, reality breaks
though classic american shakesperian apocalypse ensues
and all your baby seal shoes,
cubed greenland icicle theives,
and breakbeat-lined vegetable cubicles
belie your purpose, saving I's of the sun.

The icons polarize
small minds
and peach pit cyanide
flows in that sick pulse
real blood has
when her stand-in is injured
by the "doctor"
while everyone stands around, pretending
and the cameraman coughs when
nosferatu arrives late from chinese make-up
and it's like the way the sun
and darkness charge peach trees
over a great distance.