FOOTSTEPS IN THE GARDEN OF GROTESQUE IDEALS
Sand mixes with coffee and
grasses will inhabit the roses.
So it is has been written in
the original notes from our leader.
Also, “Get this fucking shite out of my hair!”
The indoctrinated may be disappointed.
After all, what remains of the forest?
Just a clearing with the inevitable plastic bottle,
and that simplicity of the unhidden.
It had been happening all day.
Naked, statuesque women
arms tightly held at the sides,
falling face down into the sand.
An artist photographed the event.
Something was bound to go wrong.
THE PARALYTICALLY OBSCURE AS BEAUTY CRESCENDO
We hadn’t even discussed menthol
or those cigarettes imported from Senegal,
when the “What’s wrong with
our local produce?” flag flew.
Your friends walked past and saluted
then you had an army to use.
It would have required a series
of well-fought battles. Foolishly,
just having left the better pair
of binoculars in my other suit.