hold your horses

route 45 please
board at fire hydrant
under the shitty little birds
this must be you
coming from somewhere
how long’s it been
since you named a thing
after a general
this pile of croutons
general croutons
we have passed the jetsons
and look, don’t trip
the magic is not
olfactory
it’s not my riff
you’re smelling
it’s the church of itch
got your tongue
between wires
there’s a bite inside faith
like going to jury duty
we must repent
we must think again
like a pensive motherfucker
penser, i say
order in english
your big shit sandwich
for the neon coplover
in search of guitar
the shape of sound
blows horse shoes
in our direction
don’t mind the cobble stone
don’t mind the smoky job rot
pave over the track
all you want
the prison won’t come back
you gotta drive around it
you gotta drive around it
to see the heart balloon
float across the rooftops
and disappear toward
the delaware