Ruined bones lay scattered like abandoned apartments,

Snakes lay coiled in the dank shadows,
like cold steel springs

Cats charged with electricity prowl around alleys   ready to pounce its victims.

The sun draws another penetrating, nauseating
line through its continual timely concensus -



I put my head to the pillow and a guru in Tibet
reaches nirvana...

Or a fresh hymen in Peru gets penetrated...

Or three flies buzzing around a half open
garbage bin getting inspired by fresh shit.


I put my head back , close my eyes and
inspiration creeps off quietly to lay in another man's bed - or muse around with flies...

With ruined bones a weighty heart and soaked liver I fall
asleep, motionless like a pile of dirt neatly
swept into the corner.





© Orin Patterson