Spit In the Pastels and Swizzle

99:  the eight of spades, scorched through the center.

44:  gold leaves lit on sigh breath red tinged gnat.

55:  the eight of clubs and bass throbs gun metal blue

22:  a sharp green that will knife through
       your gastrointestinal tract like a finger
       thrust into butter to its knuckle when it crosses
       your nose.

11:  snake eyes are never without negative space
       surround and feel a tongue go dry like
       tissue paper kissed haphazard,
       stuck to skin.

999:  adventure boiled
         to tar.  Smeared.  Pigeon.  Blood.
         Glisten bone shard peek through.
         Thank God for jeans.

Hustle Bone

You,
You clearly,
You clearly,
You clearly do not know me yet.

Irate pirate.  You can be the alpha dog.
Can't give two shits to move it.
The boulder in our conversations.
Just - crew - it.

With one hundred hands
any mountain can be plucked.
Be more like Lex Luthor
and give no -

What I came here to say is that
some people will bring a bat,




arms, and cannon,

wings, and a radar,

ghost armies and phantoms

rag with glass shard,




Alpha dog.  Plotting your demise.
Ten feet from the fire,
licked teeth, in the underbrush
with the glitter eyes.