CPJournal #4

CHARRED SATELLITES PASSING ON THE STRIP

I know it was wrong of me
to raise you an aborted fetus
via Murdoch Mail my dear
Down Under no please

don’t believe I should have
called your ante ‘cause god
I wanted to go
all in as I sense

that thing
that thing
that pushes itself
across the table
crawls inside
my cocktail
which even today
barely got away
from someone else’ stakes
I didn’t see coming
At me
I didn’t see rushing me

Beneath these many moons
Between these many moans
& just when I was starting to believe the correct
stratagem might be the conspicuous pronouncement of a
“FOLD”
To the congregated cocksuckers at the card table

there you
were once more
than ever
still in
still at the table
still of never ending hands.

Jesus this call
Has ever gone
so wrong
so long

check these samsonites packed beneath my lids
and if we just happened to walk away together
if you and I just stood up and left the table
with our nostrils flooded with
that easiest song of apocalypse

well we wouldn’t be able to get enough of that now
would we no

we wouldn’t