The Pencil Pushers

Hebrew nights,
The bucket and mop
Sitting on the back porch,
Bleach rising.

Containment of filth,
As a century’s decay
Groans.

And the alignment
Of my prerogative
Fastened tightly
With the screws of Summer

As echoes of peals of thunder
Plagiarize the assimilation of whores
As they anesthetize civilization.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s