Unrelated Thoughts

Poems that are not in The End of the Word as We Know It, by Wes Unruh

by dawn we were riding

with the whistle
we are off, a horn

copper dust and mountaintops beyond the horizon, blue skyline
layered, painted in the distance
coal fires smoking, stains

were three blind men staggering under their crimes
you were dead, hustled out of the shadows
here and buried in secret just enow
broken when I fixed it

left too long these whistling pieces
brain mush, target opposition sneaks in again

pacts, coalescing intentions drive across this swollen ground
it is not your land, not now

what you hathor something bullmarket
in midworld mind malkuth? Black
forest heartached, left schadenfreude treeline
spat arrogance, tumescence in act
if not in deed, indeed…

white stains, clouds without water
a sputum–come: Take this thread through these thoughts, this text…

O

or perhaps 0

null. A point of reference

from whence to befinger the pointsman

some pretty good privacy leave the door propped open…

!

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