Beneath the empty chattering of magpies and blackbirds
Vagrants in the woods breathing baptized and backwards
Disorderly zen in the black eyes of cancer
Captain of the ship come to capsize the rapture
Can't find the answer in a dog-eared pamphlet
Tremble as you're standing on the frontier's anklet
Anguished, shimmy in the noose with a halo
The red and blue veins of the John Deere banquet
Swing and a miss, king of a distant abyss taking sips from a lingering mist
Whispering fists, a mixture of liquor and piss, an elixir that didn't exist
Imminent blips, clips of belligerent tinsel intent upon sinking the ship
Licking his lips as he sits on the red eye, a dead sky's just a wishful eclipse
With warm regards to Aesop Rock and Wallace Stevens
