10-22-2023, 02:30 PM
On The Seventh Day
On the seventh day
god rested but the serpent
did not. He set about
making mortuaries & the clink
of ice inside a glass
of bourbon, each hushed
by the deep tao
of their own weary
obsolescence. Unexpectedly,
he mamboed past Security
& into the great
word press. He began
printing bones
on the backs of stars,
then the effortless
wisdom of fortune cookies.
Lastly, for himself, a desk calendar.
This year, he decided,
penciling it in,
would be the year
of the snake.
On the seventh day
god rested but the serpent
did not. He set about
making mortuaries & the clink
of ice inside a glass
of bourbon, each hushed
by the deep tao
of their own weary
obsolescence. Unexpectedly,
he mamboed past Security
& into the great
word press. He began
printing bones
on the backs of stars,
then the effortless
wisdom of fortune cookies.
Lastly, for himself, a desk calendar.
This year, he decided,
penciling it in,
would be the year
of the snake.