or wonder if the sky would come apart over LaGuardia
- or, like, maybe at the last minute this 747 will get reception and I can send one last text,
or waste it on being called "honey."
or waste it on being called "honey."
Why is Jesus always riding in on a cloud? That would make him look so small!
Back, Midwest, in Ypsilanti, where there have been 3 Christs, at least, already,
our own mess-of-a-siah will trudge algae-covered from the Huron and Cross himself a street.
our own mess-of-a-siah will trudge algae-covered from the Huron and Cross himself a street.
There are no fig trees here to hide in (hear that, Matthew?), let alone to curse!
There's a bomber plant down the road somewhere,
but there's nothing with seeds on inside on any plane I've been on.
There's a bomber plant down the road somewhere,
but there's nothing with seeds on inside on any plane I've been on.
We haven't seen fruit since 1971,
and the names "Willow Run" and "Wayne" seem appropriate, but I can't put my finger on it.
and the names "Willow Run" and "Wayne" seem appropriate, but I can't put my finger on it.
("Let the dead bury their own.")
"Please secure your own mask before assisting others."
You can't stand anywhere around here and be more than 6 miles away from what used to be a body of water....
"In the event of a water landing, the cushion underneath your seat will serve as a floatation device."
Everyone's so hopeful in Manhattan! (And I hear they'll "never forget"....)
Cheers to the drying of the Detroit River!
("I thirst.")
Out East the glorified gutter, the Hudson, over-fucking-floweth.
That explosion of glass and metal, and business-people and faith in humanity 10 years ago was probably worse than drowning. I missed it though, and I have nothing to forget.
My Dad's spent 40 years in this desert.
I'm taking the scrap metal from this Delta bird of prayer to dig myself a fucking well.
("You are right to say you have no husband.")
(JULY 2011)
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