Imagine: You Are Here

How many breeding bleeding layers
are there in this city’s skin? –
some operative – some discarded

and unpardonable: this half-moribund,
half-breathing porous mesh
of spin and sin and blunt intransigence

and subtle residue – this vast organic
stew which seeps into your thought
and flesh to underscore its intimate

hegemony – its power over you –
in all its multifariously kinky funky
sweat – its threat to all complacency –

this godless naked kickass punk of soul
who struts in refutation of the least
idea that any sweet simplicity could

ever constitute the whole: this thing
that richly rhymes with muck and suck.
Imagine: you are here. What luck!

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