Kleptomaniac Thomas Hardy Wedding

Ypsilanti, Michigan suburb awash in ruined doors | combined apparatuses for drinking out coal tar | lung switched grey residents out with the flogged door | trick turned on a short corner wallowing besides the small ground | drumming underneath of a discontent that channeled makes the pavement | made the door, an individual never thinks it’s his | her labor alienated in amicable patriot’s cove America | Descartes’ uncertain cribbage | there’s a monkey’s gland mixed into Yeats. | Fraternal knot dry heaved out from an earth torn shake blown madrigal piping un-tourniqueted wound | wind streams, larval flaws piping hot pupa flows run off the crass horse gutted fast by wolves left dashed and bashed askance for smaller wings to pluck | we dryads in a glutted wood of luck | full migrants for the tapestries we draw | unbound wind wound earth saw | skit diamond blade shrank straight lane clutch | in trances splashed with runes and such | raiding marks as carve out best the score | and slam the shore | again again with churning beat | set to unseat | freaks bled lexical indexed dead | though likely printed, seen but never read | unwanted résumé | bobs in an unadulterated way | clenched gutter spittle-lick | crack lineated colors wick | the pages over lets that sharp cut | ululate | but | straight | away rush into inmost day | via spiral staircase, say | “It is here I will tumble down you all” | and spiritedly make your fall | performing shame before technology | lay at the altar of Farfrae | ceding the title as the law demands | accepting alms but no laying of hands | evaporated unwanted in the cruel | compressing machinery that, as a rule | cares not for you, the individual | plinthing you into a particle | of gear here near the surface. Full | fool. | Staring directly down at yourself in effigy | floating by on a river of glee | flowing freely from a guilting mob | gilting water with painted dummies to fob | off talismanic like a door | an outside that leads inside nothing more | another compartment settled and arranged | a press a grid a form a block unchanged | except by governmental shifts of grip | marked fingerprints that slip | onto a digital slide | you cannot hide | so separate that part of you that’s tried | to keep up dignity; dignity died | and went to heaven which, when spied | looks exactly like the past; I lied | the future; timeless darkness either side | of that brief bouncing bit of light wave dancing | while atoms in themselves can keep advancing | with stability | before electrons lose their viability | and gravity too dies | or other planes move in disguise | and skewer us out past | the shallow buzzing of our being here at last.