sneak like the

sneak like the
     i wonder
bluster the rain
     the rude rain
the bureaucratic
     the wind
sneak under

the decrees
     telling to fail
can they
     can i duck
     can i fuck
make a full good
     this job’s fucked
not mere half cocked
     incompetence
string and scissor
     half repair
          no future

this island’s
     a trap and trapped
not marx’s gold
     & monkey’s hand
there is no gold
only burnt sense
     the craic
the moat
     the end of language

so if i turned
     built
made my own castle
     my burnt mud
i’d trap me there
     like an ant
          the house
               marx’s gold
abandon it to be

the less you own
     the less trap
i should
     if i can’t carry possessions
          abandon them
               the trap
                    they are

surrender the job
     back to the cobweb coyboys

winter rain
     a violent accost

attested and gathered
     meeted
a violent accuse
     to do a good job
     tried
the violence
     of endemic
          it’ll do
               incompetence
the corporation
     of must policies
          of peered
               make do
make tomorrow’s collapse
     someone else’s grief





this archive is hosted by arts & ego
© 1978–2022 dylan harris