cubic feces

(via)

"The words of true poems are the tuft and final applause of science." --Whitman

Worlds with a red sun.

breakuispvhi
landing on Vesta
i'd weigh as much as a toaster
who live in their dark tents
"they" don't want you to know about
the tree was warm under my hands
& smooth, like cardboard or Hennessy
the gamut fallen behind
i was taken to a place
the pressure of the might-have-been
the sweep of the almost-come
teeth calving like icebergs

was the people themselves
made this horse's ass emperor
call it suicide by clown

all the bad juju wrung
out of me in an hour's dancing