Violence is Golden

Often it’s just a glance
that makes the needle jump
like an infinite space road test
going nowhere all pink all washed-out
as marbled caucasian skin colored
blank parts in the transcript
twist the far gone yonder into painted water
& seacolored stones

the ruins of a beerglass shadow

low ride thru Sleazeville

anyway depends on how fast you
were going & if anyone recognized you

it’s what makes the beachbreak crooked
when the fog seeps in
deep as a Rastafarian
well of souls