Daydreaming Of Days Coming Not Moving And Unchanging Poem by Luke J. Holt

Wake any now
Still bake beating
Air temper neutron blue
Gagging and clouds of whipped gauze
Inhabit nexus yesteryear
Ghouls of gardens dead love hallow incessant until god-knows never
Slow witted bus man tree size lifts whole Plymouth for spit coins
Black prayer stark revenge black prayer in tin chapels where stink of this or other death preside as atmosphere
Past love great puppet no affect
Still as cedar-craft staring at now like one or other conceivable animal stopped breathing.
Goddamn funeral dusk quiet like crows at the birth of a small storm. Happier bus stop talk of iron-hued days in the alleys before the old-time streetshow. Leaning on a float uncaring. Splash you with cappuccino like a killer.
Banished with Snoopy to where pure is secondary
Your idols misbehaving
The sanitation truck brings you a new day with a metallic explosion, dead rappers and no breakfast.
It comes in dampened from rain and blinks on the wrong lamp
The remains of this garden have tendrils that don't whisper
SHE CARES NOR KNOWS NOT IF OR WHEN YOU SLEEP
Sobbing with dignity is an art
You may learn to become a ghost in tears by shivering
A Casper in a five-walled room with his back against the ceiling
Pitch forward in the Mars-colored brush on floating tail
Comet man drunk on mercury with egg-yellow eyes
Breathing deftly actually nowhere
Waiting for mercy in a Viking helmet
Bearing laudanum and a T.V.Guide
Taking vitals looking elsewhere
Concoct in place an enchanted holocaust
I will wait in the plum groves for your last bitten hole to plug.
Soon to bid monsters goodbye
I will watch a procession and imagine its twenty years ago.