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Buckets and Batteries

Unbeknownst turned something into nothing
On the electronic magnetic spectrum a drop out
Walking by the highway un-mysterious


Throw feedback into the oncoming lane
it would maybe bend back the lane
a jug-handle!

 
Pot hole the whole place
Flatten all the tires
Don’t walk anywhere


Mangle the radio with ear’s hands
Bring me the juice from this


A flute plays in and out of the car’s wind
Drag the sound out like an old dog
Your car is dying



You will have to leave it here
And continue on your own
dark blue pine tree
I will sing into a cell phone
and ascend into a type
of M.C. Escher purgatory
like an afternoon of backwards
geese and a monotony of vision
 

This is not what my teeth wanted me to say
diamonds found under the NJ Turnpike

 
The Garden Sate Parkway
misled everyone
With tiny emerald signs

 
I decided to walk
to sleep on the median

 
I had a spiritual experience with
the ticket holder and the music
he was playing

sports music


I can’t believe
we still listen to this music
as we pick through the
anomic objects
besides the metal hay

 
A new species of squirrel emerged
one that could be run over

 
The moat surrounding
New York City housed the
Sewage Antiquity
Tourism Bureau:
benelvolent keepers
of slow motion violence



The power station warmed our
buckled deer blankets
Posted 10/10/11
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