On Ash Wednesday in New Orleans , a silver knight rides the hood of a slowly-moving red Volkswagen, retaining his poise with a firm handle on a windshield wiper, a box containing the New Queen Bee nestled in his other arm, driving towards a hot dog stand where the Savage Bees are swarming. the knight tells the driver to shut the windows, close the vents, and keep in constant walkie-talkie chatter with the assistant medical examiner. he slowly approaches the hot dog stand, and he becomes ketchup. two intoxicated Mardi Gras pirates cannot curb their hunger, racing through the sheriff’s roadblock in their yellow convertible, driving into the swarm, becoming mustard. the driver’s anguish attracts the bees, and the Bug becomes a hive. she drives to the Superdome, and the swarm acquiesces to the air conditioning. fun fact: the silver knight was one of the Magnificent Seven.
this poem will never be finished her grace, gentle to calm an outstretched and anxious palm, quiets all storm of memory, her own tide awash a melody of opaque recognition that, by definition, is a hazy spell no slumber can break, no number of make-believe apparitions, to wrap her heart in such toughness as to clear the lane of her progress from debris, her grace unto me is the pinpoint of light that steadies and readies my own night as it descends and unbends, her grace, gentle and calm.
the chapters are prolonged the proofreading adumbrated I often cleaned the birthday cake knife I did my best (but you needed x-ray glasses to notice) Madame Curie, play your defensible metaphors be immodest be Picasso be the other Frozen movie, trapped on a ski lift above the undying Sonny Liston is not getting up Sonny Liston is staying down the speakerphone has increased both the divorce rate and the amputation rate anyone who touches a decent girl buys the farm. the melody modulates the mob we all fail at geometry (ego, try me). why does the Angel of Death wear so much make-up just to watch a Packers game? you don’t expect Willem Dafoe. you never expect Willem Dafoe, and I don’t accept Willem Dafoe as a guest of Kelly& Ryan, more like the sly diabetic mastermind taking hostage the show, the slyer producer in the wings thinking: spin-off. hey…yellow aurora… how are you, really ?
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