I tell you I will not make any more raids, The elusive going-elsewhere motherboard An electrical sound marking stretches Afternoon is carving into the wood of us, That’s our modern way of saline allegory— To make gods of times of day. I won't Cooperate with this love that steals itself Into a brand name, preferring to abandon Like feathers or a rocket stage the moves Traffic up till now couldn’t touch. That’s me, That warm breath dying on the neck, The only chain they couldn’t save in the fire Everybody but the Buddha called A day at the beach.
Copyright © 2011 by Jordan Davis. Used with permission by the author.