Archive for June 6th, 2010


By Nick Hranilovich

Seen upon my satellite, stars aligned
Early morning, rising head and silence driving East
No visor, I take the Sun straightnochaser
There’s chill breeze upon the wafting surface of the atmosphere
And by God with these clouds to skim on it looks like Earth hit first frost
Somebody guard the crops from these white tufts
A thick freeze
I smell an age coming, coming on, forever come again?
No new, please, I’m just a girl, I’m just a Gwen, I’m just a L.A.M.B.
Upon my reference-broadcasting fashion-channel satellite
Used formerly for intelligence transmissions and my butt flipped a switch
So now it’s ignorance feeds and the wrong impressionable folk
watching its spew get fed ignorance
Ignorance and negligence fuck each other
and stare at the belly buttons of children, waiting for them to open up
so they can crawl inside and wear them
What a fit! This one has fresh skin and I’ll take its body everywhere I go
and feed it whiskey like the bar has the heads of rattlesnakes
where the taps should go
and we pull their teeth over mugs for a fresh draught
Hail poison, no? What else does one think midst swigs?
There’s no poison on my satellite
But the ghosts of every astronaut with cracked faceplate visit me
Hover and ooh and ahh and point to the sinking sun
Horizon swallows firey giant
And these ghosts evaporate into a thousand astral lightning bugs zipping around my head
Asking me to believe that there’s life in me
And the giraffes on the continent below

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