No Kings
Poem / poetry
In the contemporary moment, we call out to life’s misdirections
I have become a small piece of delusions
Mother sprinkle out in the day time hours
Those birds don’t stay at the rallies
No kings but certainly prefer a cold dry hunch on a sour hot day
Crushed velvet in a sorted dress closet
Those ropes she throw to bedazzle
The damp wet day at two o’clock in the afternoon
Beseeched molars a cat wraps the tongue around the piece
The candy men I bring from the California’s
Cooling machines
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