James Marshall (With Fiery Axe)

This only high
Forgetful
Fleeing this beautiful world
To be finding lights that flash
Folded in on business section
Under an arm of nostalgia
Bringing back clean lines
And an all male workforce
Renegade positions
Folding back the other way
Flying inside out
Birds of pictures
Birds of letters
Guts reduced to queries
And retorts

And necessity
With narrow hips
A shriveled mess
A torched mess
Forged with staunch support
To the apparent opposition
A glistening cavalier
Rainbows and stars and butterflies in tow
Trailing and fading against midnight blue
The darkest complexion possible
With glow fused to every horizon
Spinning endlessly
Contorted
This death trip
--
7.12.10

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