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disarray

by Jim Benz

I spin out of control into trash cans
bouncing off bricks in the alley

I spin circles and mathematic misconceptions
I spin broken glass into bone spurs

I spin stories that have no meaning
that smoke cigarettes and bark at strangers

I spin excuses for a crack head, I spin smoke
and bar fights, I spin shattered bottles

I spin tales with the railyard drunks
I spin dreams in the clink of a tin cup

I spin beggars without any legs
I spin goblets from the sand in an ash tray

I spin doctors, I spin days
I spin children like candy bar cyclones

I spin orbits and split novel bindings
I spin on the bus depot bench

I spin through wind and the sunlight
I spin heads in the sound of a footstep

I spin flames in the wreckage of burnt cars
I spin joints in a volkswagon van

I spin discs, I spin wheels in the graveyard
I spin china in your mother’s clean kitchen

I spin sky through the hole of a pretext
I spin buckets of time and hogwash

I spin neglect into pink cotton candy
I spin circus clowns and peanuts

I spin fire and drunken slurs
into gang fights, I spin washed out photos

I spin color through the shadows of nightfall
but in the day, I spin black and white

07/23/2006

Posted on 07/23/2006
Copyright © 2024 Jim Benz

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