When falling for smoke and mirrors, be sure to bring with you caffeine,
pill form, liquid form, mousse for spreading and not eating.
Steer clear of the aisles seats and keep your feet inside your boots.
A thousand times, from morning bugles to company B’s,
this rallying cry pierces the county line and shoves my knees into pumpkin pies,
pushes my face into a crock pot of sand,
I knead the sinews under the hairline,
orbital moths rip open the mask of secure phone lines.
Lying below a century of illusory chain letters,
public declarations of fair trade and precious metals,
gunstock clubs batter flesh, still wet with earth-sweat.
Kettle’s on, kettles on top of the stone hill of my head,
interring hip bones for the price of candid cravings.
— yiqi 20 Dec 2014 11:00 am