When you are too cutting edge and you don’t
Know you are housing morality. Smear
In enough fish smut to flavor the press,
Before you are published and gone. Counter
The pleasures of the day. Float. Nothing to
Show the white line up from the rock strewn for
The red and blue fauxhawked rebel run dream.
Man as mesquite. His six pound soul. Flavor
Your enemies, flesh, and influence as your sin.
As neighbors of many science fiction
Religions. Boys step away from dinner.
The table. The dangerous aftertaste.
This notion to be with a mouthful of
Thought not befitting a hungry poet.
therichardbraxton 