Slushy

There are times where the connections in my head make sense.

There are times where you will just have to go with it.


Slushy 7/28

I.
Joan Didion dreams of a floating turbine            hovering
spinning wildly over a prairie expanse
Her frail hands are reaching into the spinning blades
            claw-like            her tips bending everything backwards

II.
In the grave yard in Auvillar the oldest crypts are breaking
piles of dust and pebbles
The newest stands open            a flame on a candle shaking
violently

III.
This is where a rotting hand rises fist from the earth and wormy
where a skull with one eye crawls meanly from a hole in the ground
This is where they pick up tools and set out into the world to reclaim
where fires start and blood becomes currency