Bushwick Page #7

No!

[ Wails ]

Lucy!

[ Gunshots ]

[ Mid-tempo music plays ]

[ Aesop Rock's "Supercell"

plays ]

Die already

None defy

the one-man walled city

Stone made flesh,

veins etched in his hands

88 stance draped

in invasive plants

And rain dance unsafely,

brace for the Supercell

Mutiny or footage for your

blooper reel, who can tell?

Pours hot tar

from the top of the barn

Necktie on his head,

condor on his arm

Dog Star in a jar,

bordering unsustainable

Mea culpa, Mea culpa,

maybe I should pray occult

Systematic Catholic or Sigil

of the Baphomet unraveling

Either way his ID

show a snake and skull

Always been a private dude

who couldn't keep a tally

Of which lies he told who

Flea comb, exorcism,

and deworming

Fitted for a curse

and a crown of birds circling

Search party falling forward

unthwarted

Meet him at the crossroads,

drawn and quartered

For a master of puppets,

how sad are his cupboards

Non-dairy creamers,

can of last supper

And a runneth-over cup

full of black tap water

It's a marvel of privacy

over pack hunter

Raspberry jelly

on his Jesus toast

And turn heather gray sweats

into Easter clothes

With no immediately measurable

crime-wave ice age

Christ children

still skin a cat sideways

I don't pick teams

or administer bans

I'm in the creek with a pick

and pan, it go

Forcibly ejected

or a voluntary death scene

Tell 'em what the out-of-order

blinking EMF mean

Ghost

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