Junk Shop Poem by Steven Polinsky

A lightening fig-furnace jell
Reaping charred and nervous wings
Anisette pungent-odor box
Nelson crown in loving steep
Nervier he whispered
Fallen fortune-rose hips blood
Next a feted poster king sheds a rainbow tear
Fornier-Fornier
Junky hair toupee
In chips-wicker nics in crying eyes behind a pile of years and lies
Books in cruddy melted dust
Hands falling off the rotting shelves
Hardware Nathan-Albert money
Fly-my fly is cracked and bare-the zippered world of sin
In fallen shadow nights-silver-gold-silver-gold
Whisper oh so slowly
An Eagle paints a urine sky and the Mastodon relates to the pile