bend your head then head for the hills
hills around the city white elephants under blankets
keep it under (w)raps I love the city
dirty smelly human hot dogs sweating as they turn on the fires of hell who turned on that light?
what is this, an interrogation?
oh god now the burning hot intensity of interest
what is your interest in this mother matter-
mother mother burning bright in a central parking light
the fall of leaves litters chelsea by the sea
boot heels high heels smashing unmanned manning man up, boy- your country’s giving you the finger
in the last grasp gasp the google-eyed grip
of decapitated capitalism
the pro prom profit monger mongrelizing
sidestepping sideswiping human it
damns what can’t be dammed forever
god it’s hot!
still in the swirling still heart eye of hurricanes the
sweet indefatigable grass pokes itself camel-like through the eye of the sidewalk and gives us
a concrete example of what can happen if we
Lyn Coffin is a widely-published writer (30 plus books- poetry, prose, both, neither). She is currently in Georgia, the country, translating Galaktion and trying to learn Georgian.