Incandescent Poets of the Age (December, 1899)

The electrician

Copper webs hang over our heads

The heavens left over the ridges

Of timber temples and red-brick castles

Us left beneath the cords

~all is interwoven and mangled~

The writer

Fluids run these cobbled streets

Rivers rinsing into sewers

Yesterday’s newspapers

RIP history into soggy pieces

~all is mangled and interwoven~ 

The adolescent

It’s hard to break bread

When you’ve only exes

And the baguette on the counter

Is as hard as a cross

The grandmother

Pitter patter pretty poet

Trotting down the city block

Your mother loves another father

Sister woes the corner church

~interwoven and mangled is all~

The seminarian

Scarlett behind the gate

Leaves a lasting lavender taste

In my mind, over the words

That tie me to these barring robes

~and mangled is all interwoven~

The professor

Lanterns burn down at half-life

I’m worn out before an afterlife

As for you, groveling reader,

What are you doing with your life?