They Are Complaining

the cattle are approaching
with wide eyes and starvation
for lips

they are

bricks for a tongue
against sides of an undetected platter
waiting, hidden

in shadow
the world in a globe for the standards
of traffic, the standards
for cleaning, the

dead of these weddings
holding hands in the portrait
of summer, keeps

our mouths
moist, our
pits moist and our
eyes moist,

fills the veins
of this acrid
landscape of
mountains, drying
beneath tomatoes,
moisture retains, drop
of sunlight drop of
pre-paper nothing

from dawn-scissors,
easy to break
tether to tucked away allegories, alibis,
smoking countries, however

one blade-flash-lightning
and out
like a twig once of laughter, the

becomes large
cow bellies, gas
leak un-throat to make count-down, someone

on another end watches, but
nothing returns,
darkness from whence a call was made


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