Ricocheted

Inside, an eternity of outer space dilated by contours of imagination streaming screaming into some black abyss of thought, endless death of this infinity inside where country roads carve eternities of bottomless backwoods insanities of shadows lengthening into paranoias cast across futures of impossible clarities of unthinkable scenes from eye to eye as the cold spittle of a gods’ words against my neck rupture black pits that deepen open red against white skies that tear back in black streaks—tear back to open to close-open-close-open-close-open the dust from eternity’s cords shook lose against the firmament—speckled cells out-plastered against the void that is full-that is void that is full-that is void is the ether—that is the void is full of the mind of ubiquitous flight this motion of travel is perpetually creative is the mode of my mind—permeance permanence persist inside cold cells scrawled-out-scribbled-out defaced in cold-shut steel lock back the key clangs in swings of bangs broken down in cold sweats of cold cases that erupt in flames in another bail bondsman’s hands torn back from the wrist a little flesh pulled back from the neck of unraveled muscle tears the bird in my head crying out from that cage of streaming sinews taught tied in the SS tatters of the beef & tater fed boys from Salmon or Branson or Somefuckingplace talkin’ ‘bout their favorite licks to swindle in impossible karats the same colors of that glovebox filler speckled out across the foils’ disintegrate to the hymn of howling winds and eruptions of last laughter lengthening along the cliffs when a wind comes so cold to freeze every warm touch of love in an icy fog drifting along streams of apathy mumbling halfhearted oaths of misery that glaciate all thought of sex—the promise of warm bodies against mine each morning shattered in those mad rampart howls of a Riverside sweat box a Windy City view from behind her it was from behind her it will always be ricocheted.