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Rated: E · Poetry · Western · #2210757
a poem about Atlanta
Electric Zoo

Lose fast
Staph kills, Catskills, ten stills, film change, spare tired and bow-tied in Hallmark kiosks
Offkey keynotes note:
O' Lamb, begot to rot
In Jazz-June, soul-saved sooner than lunar caldera provided, under the tablecloth we all grovel united, knighted boot-soles stomping souls soulless in progress...
Korova loonies snow-crashed in tantric Iceboxes
Stockhausen stock-houses packed with sold-out soul-food, blowzy beneath zephyred Goodyear zeppelins
Wicker-basket pickings in wicked winter, hinterlands glow regardless, from neon and crimson candelabras, wired glowworms warming the electric zoo
Lowlifes still plague the darkness... naked prudes streaking, strawmen pulsed in hourly cadences from Our to Amen
Thereof the inclusion of all men under binary suns and Linux-based Burroughs and Apple-soft Edens under silver-spun lamplights illuminates heathens, absconding false playwrights who belong to the dilettantes and dogs
Folded, in full disclosure, gazettes under Folgers paperweights, beneath fluorescent floodlights four-wide in foreclosed arthouses
Pale quartet as viewed from the lectern, lecture halls forever empty ensconced in plastered Papist walls and concrete stalls
Daffodils uprooted for strychnine orchards, orchids ordered in windowsill quincunx
Five-counts, fivefold five-four Brubeck... boomtowns looming overtop bursting dynamo, boardrooms belly-up on bantamweight four-posters, brooding in bedlam breweries, bored in Dionysian doldrums... rummaging through East-village villas
Forthright fortunes forbearing four-story 404 smokestacks, fourteen-by-fourteen for lowly twin and four-piece kit, kitchen baby-blue since Baby-Boom, room reserved for blazed-out drummer boy, twenty-two
Eyes set on sold-out sets and cloudland sunsets and moonrise beauties and Bandcamp greenbacks and soon-to-be student-debts
Snuggled under two-pm angelfish hashish, smothered sloth neath Slothrop plunder, sunken-eyes and red-top granny-knit nightcaps, tiptoeing round red-solos and torpid tourists just hours before
Nudist luncheonettes in stock-Corvettes
Nuked near-new moo-goo, glue-thick Tru-Moo perched placid on porched patio, two Newport 100s hunkered in puckered pink-lips, crumpled pink-slips all disarray in waning day
Hit the hay

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