Cuff-linked, a chain gang

we are habitually trapped

pot-bound rhododendrons,

colorfully caught by

the pity of restriction,

designing evernew Goldberg rubes,

clinging aphids.


Liver-shot barflies

pushing paper-scissors-rocks

dimly lie facedown in the gutter,

chanceless to see stars,


chagrining society and

our leather jackets.


Fuming, fumigating, fascicle

are we, chained so close,

huddling, striving, denying

our capacity or competence,

complicating the facile:

build a home, tell the truth,

shine your light.


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