I keep hearing about guns going off in funeral parlors,
watch the polar ice cap splinter into teepees on the evening news. Oil runs into blood in deep ditches without a staff. Today somebody spray-painted the 10 Commandments on the pavement in front of where I work. I took it as a sign recounting the day in my small place across the street from a canyon preserve where poison oak flashes its red glittery leaves, cattails teach scripture wearing seeded beards, and poppies slope down the hill blazing a golden path.
watch the polar ice cap splinter into teepees on the evening news. Oil runs into blood in deep ditches without a staff. Today somebody spray-painted the 10 Commandments on the pavement in front of where I work. I took it as a sign recounting the day in my small place across the street from a canyon preserve where poison oak flashes its red glittery leaves, cattails teach scripture wearing seeded beards, and poppies slope down the hill blazing a golden path.
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