(no subject)
Fires, fires,
it's a tempest
of fires
and not passion,
nor gloried sunbeam mornings-
those beggars to burn
by the handful-
five, six, seven, eight-
us beggars to burn
in delight of
debt collectors,
bill collectors,
to take the two
(how is there two,
there is three)
train cars,
one to house
the other to job,
to the collected knowledge-
never leave, unless,
the hubris in dance,
of flame and guile,
flame up the body
the limbs
up to face
filthy hopeless smiles-
which never left-
to leave
is to die in fires,
of which we
are kind-clown
kindling.
it's a tempest
of fires
and not passion,
nor gloried sunbeam mornings-
those beggars to burn
by the handful-
five, six, seven, eight-
us beggars to burn
in delight of
debt collectors,
bill collectors,
to take the two
(how is there two,
there is three)
train cars,
one to house
the other to job,
to the collected knowledge-
never leave, unless,
the hubris in dance,
of flame and guile,
flame up the body
the limbs
up to face
filthy hopeless smiles-
which never left-
to leave
is to die in fires,
of which we
are kind-clown
kindling.