Idol Observations
Waiting on my bones to empty of marrow.
Clockwatching, frame bolted with grass blades.
Clouds flirt and I contort with green protrusions
hoping the nimbo-fuckers burst into June sleet.
Leering tyrant, head honcho with antlers
anchoring my body to Millennium park,
I pester the anthill with my hideous
guffawing. Predatory preparation in
perpetual coronation, delevated mantle.
What I will upon this lawn yellows the blades,
sharpens the songs of the birds. Wind carries
the syllables, smothered, into the architecture.
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