We are dangled over our family histories. Like Pin the Tail on the.
corrupt sausage-grinders. knuckle bashers. donkey punchers.
We’re sooted in school chairs. Going up to the chalkboard.
To perform a striptease. This is our progressive school. We will model.
The economy. Nobody has the great tenderness of the boiler room.
Nobody in the whole high school. Only the janitor who is Hephaestus.
Lame down below. Waits for the rumbling explosion. And its golden net.
It will capture the whole school. In a new mythology. And when it explodes.
Like the Hindenburg. Like the Bismarck. Some primordial animal will say
and sway in the grasses behind the school. Also beautifully on fire
like Chinese paper flowers
God, this is so lame
theprosepoem 