The Exact Relational Center Of The Anxiety Disguised As Love
Forward through the dark dens of time
by Larry Sawyer
she said and turned around showing me.
Volcanoes in the throes of passion.
To divulge thrown footballs in a forgotten town
naked feet upon a dashboard
else oblique wings.
Frown, early morning air,
sedate as convalescents.
Flickering stars upon a fur mirror.
Into landscapes of line and structures of tenement,
choose to merely sit and brood over stoves of controversy.
Sell hope to the locals.
On a molecular level there are no barriers between anything.
A life spent New York Timing beneath fireworks.
Our asteroid conversations wipe out all humanity.
Lighting up behind the garage
taxidermists retire from the art of con.
Besides it’s unimportant, the crux as light.
There are no electricians to bring me calm.
Tremendous success came only after rain.
That amounted to nothing more than
do these shorts make me look fat?
Only life we have.
And the remote wouldn’t work, so I got up to go.
Seaports throughout the world, listen!