Andy Warhol’s television show
played through the 60s
with mashed pecans following
making pies of interest
Four and twenty blackbirds baked
in the sky
Francis Gary Powers
wondering why
J.F.K. was sloshed down
from the grassy knoll
Marsgate Sands gathering
on places hereto fore-thought slow
Prometheus sword-fighting Epimethius
with cousins on the other side
of pharmaceutical bathroom mirrors
advertising to the insides
Of time’s temporal bottles
nine to five with automatic throttles
a tsar’s caskets of moonlight amontillado
with splattering hints of biden rhyme
The River Styx is running low
unprecedented levels of dry humoring atmospherics
you know seasons come and go
under a blazing star of fission genetics
The Ferryman has inflated prices
and bankers thank compounding rice
weddings marry first world songs
untroubled by concerns of right or wrong
Shills of illusions the open door
to eternal life and death
obscured once more
aborting births fated breaths
Roaring twenties on snow bridge cornices
ado about somethings in vain
a lot of Pamplona’d precipices
in talons of networked chains
With sufficient style for another mile
walking on the sand bridging appearance
a stranger miraged with-himself for-others
until his afterlife was filed.
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