stain'd glass city iii

{iii}
every red from 100 to oh shit  
somewhere where the land is flat & dead    
fire ripe    
& scatter'd limbs, accusatory fingertip missiles point east;    
eyes up  
mouth downturn'd    
a private storm in skulls crack'd like sun-warm asphalt: -    
tinder    
husks ov uproot'd saplings  
wrapp'd in the white arms ov polyester vampires  
sponging the sidewalk with shread'd tongues to stall the wilt    
   
{ii}    
belch'd from the snarling beast, fed to bursting with eucalyptus & iron  
& the pollock-esque nonchalance ov breath & fear & piss    
&    
... count the roots  
count the limbs  
scavenge for flowers amid the desolation  
errod'd by circumstance & neglect ...    
liquor scent'd laces    
still neatly tied, a bow on scuff'd shoes    
somewhere to the west    
   
{i}  
dust    
somewhere, someone is complaining about dust & red mud trek'd thru the front room,  
sticky hands    
papering the walls, deeper than paint or sugar soap    
& elbow grease;    
my lungs are full ov the world, loose soil kick'd into the humidity  
dispersing the flavours ov disenfranchisement, the stench  
ov unseen    
& the question to which the answer is always  
yes    
yes    
yes    
because there was no other way but striking that match    
hoping it doesn't find a source    
hoping we can keep the dirty walls