steampunk web book

just connected  white and black speaker leads

together with seal it tape, insulated 3 sets of twisted 

wires, now morcheeba sounds like the first time

then the rush comes, molly to my side.

his frenz is always tweaking

nough drugs in this hood to ground a helicoptor

parent for life. this music feels like a rave , a wave,

an oblivion to undertow fake muscles, shaking a trailer.

what is it you wanted from life, after all, little nyad, little nymph

that your wellspring is well swum nigh these centuries gone.

bored with immortality you beg for suicide by hepheastus.

the rigor mortis sets in cal told her

then slumped over his bench 

in the engineering lab, next to her twenty

five  going on tombstone years.

. the walls close in,simone

the noose looks inviting, in the rough 

exposed beams under
 the attic where we sleep.

but meanwhile the young lads invade

lookin for hookin up with the way

the hiway flows when you're on gotan.

all these music references. i think if they become

foam on the beaches  a  sand flea's emergent

  scurry between the falling over again tide,

 our eye good as god's.

well, i hope. for love among that.
the wiped tear, the shared story.
dinner and its tidings.

misdirected waves, serotonin stones dropped
accidentally. the rush of neglect, the piteous cage.



my baby girl's baby girl.
live show, out of tune. a bird's
turn on the sideshow.
the way she dreams of flight.
skittle colored, peopled with cartoons.

you show me a hobby. your eyes alight
mine light upon the ics
 i am not impressed
by the gold, silicon arsenic doped snacks
in your fingers.

you have  miner's blood.  he was on his way west
and got stopped in chicago by a woman
he met in the park. they moved to indiana
to settle the plains. he was killed in a raid
while she was visiting relatives in the city
to have their child. a boy. she went back
with a new man, a lot guns. the boy had bothers and sisters
the army ran off the indians. lfe was good. now his genes
pop up in your sky blue eyes, your fingers itch
to find a frontier , somewhere in the mountains
where the landfills go. gold. your eyes a glitter.