New Poem--Again

Aubid You Goodnight

I would rather my mistakes
should scream at me,
a constant drone of worry—
the clock’s last tick
never ended,
is ringing still.

What is duplicated from nature:
a mechanical red light
runs through the streets
with a hand over its heart—
the crowd gasps.
Someone anonymously pees,
moans lynched in jaundice air.
They reach out like hands
of hermits in wells
grasping for a patch of grass.

Nervous energy poured into celebration.
Lungs fill with laughter
before lips have chance to break
to reveal diamond pimp teeth.
Giggles echo in Summer swamp ether.

Darkness into Ocean:
general darkness as quoted by the Bible
gropes in a veil of sweat
for articulation in hands & mouths.
Its act of fucking
becomes an act of possession,
becomes reason to hold
the blade up to his throat
and ask how the morning will come.