SHIT TO BE DONE BEFORE MONDAY MORNING ...

SHIT TO BE DONE BEFORE MONDAY MORNING

The Doom-King pushes up his mask
Fist-heel to chin plaster in the fire’s light.

Bend deeply old back. Bend deep old spine-of-back.
Tear muscles ligaments sinewy wires over shoulder-blades.
Blow cold clouds far along some foreign jet-stream.
And mire. And shit-wiped newspapers
Sludge underfoot in the plank-shack.
Shake hour-glassed bellies of spiders on thin webs.
Hang dust-stale carps together with smoked night-shirts.

The Doom-King has shaven his head
Red ears now rudders against such guilt.