the ducks are in order
natural distractions
provide the narrative
& apostles need a narrative
this bridge
is going to blow
volatile charges
of the pen
with the blast power
of a truck
of TNT
i was in a state of grace
passing a census taker
interviewing empty bottles
a woman asked me
if my garden went untended
while i composted
pitiful scrapings
i threw up on her shoes
& stared at the bottles
their utility ignored
only numbers mattered
dead soldiers
intoxicating guests
to be bagged
& redeemed
