by alice yobby
desire, straight enough at least
to carry oneself off the trail and on-towards
the feral hogs in manic congregation
meanwhile praying to the architectural Gods
with their sacrificial victims sleeping
in the verboten gash below its crotch and
buried alive piecemeal in hail and wine until
plastic bags transfigure epidermal coffins
without being paraded in carts by the gesticulating noctambulists
petrified by the nonmirror
wailing fucking stupid decrees
their only triumph
the impenetrable path
which disfigures the lineage of beauty
______
alice yobby is a poet and vagabond living in the pacific northwest. she is barely scraping by.
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