Crackpot Animalist

Posted by Erik Moshe on Sunday, October 25, 2015 Under: Poetry
In a union of laissez-faire roots
and thunder cut dirt, the Big Cat
wound its head behind a brook
and uncurled its body in the name of non-compliance

A Lexington fur coat resurrected notions
of bleak Cheshire luxury. Periwinkle cigar smoke
- stripes like a Worker Party manifesto
in the columns, cogs, gears of dead winter

Incessant domain - riptide foliage
where forest met the shadows of storage closets
stocked with liberated Mongolian refugees
high hats, and nixed military brass

There's something about whiskers that tug
a turn-stool and leave a naked barman,
set a Burmese python's tail on fire
slash-and-burns modern epithets
douses main terminals in in-navigable tears

Ho-hum goes an iron-lung, a product of Narnia
steamrolled in jasmine rice, The Big Cheese
sitting like a stuntman's candle atop a birch tree
looking down at how the reanimated rabbit feet shuffle

Unforgivables amble up a gnarled rope
their death warrants signed by Henry Kissinger lapdogs
Icons of slow dance theory;
steps in a direction dubbed doom

The world's governed by cat screeches in dark alleyways
but also by the silence of turnip fields far removed
from the wild, entangled, coniferous smog
Gravitating away from big microphones and towers
towards the Great Out-d├ęcor...

In : Poetry 

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