Moving Parts

 

 

 

If this machine kills fascists this

Dance is moving parts human

Parts this house a terrible house growing

Dark a cowboy roving

In the aisles of slaughter what

Are we keeping I am keeping

The robots we fear the robots with

 

Hands don’t tell me to not be

Referential inserting you into

The house like I own the resemblance

I own the staircase to the machine

I own the word house I say no one

Is most no one is master

 

 

Run-Down Nature Motel

 

 

 

 

This cannot be

The bridge though it is

Sufficient passing

This backlit into a blind

 

New once above

The wanting along the reservoir

Calling come closer we are

Due a lustrum

Water riding down

 

The mountain

Over breaking a terrible

Ocean the man is

Disease I cannot catch I must

Not fear the stations of my

 

Prowess I will burn this sister

For the safety

The post war designation

The special problem of

Living through

The disaster

I know it’s passed I know

My reflection water

Around us now becoming

 

This lake the bottom

Of this lake the fuselage

Dislodged

I am

 

Distrustful the brown-green

Camouflage hunters moving

On the opposite

 

Bank I’m going

To sink these savings

Restore the run-down

Nature motel I made up

My mind

MEG BARBOZA