get you ready for a day of bruises
play it on a horse’s trusses
the sickling sun bears fruits
too late to tie long sighs
for all the accidents of yesterdays
forging signs beholding fingers, pinked
lipped testing on faces, where you
are, all fending for signs & lines
buses, blue and buses, yellow, and
ginsberg hair and wordsworth hollow
girled sister plucked daffodils of
deceit — plight flight of a sick-
ening write, eyes talked shit when
protests can’t go for masked fellows
and masked fools and masked thins
and masked fats – never in-between,
never middle but also, never new,
never shine, never honest, never here,
never circular, but always middle.
never empowered, but also only
always occupied. and Occupy.
and moved, not moving.
get ready to receive the masses,
you are not the masses, you are
mass – mostly, most, only mass.
* * *
written march 27, 2012
tues – 07:48