A drunk native w a revolver in his hand
Told me there were six spokes in custers throat
beneath bighorns last stand w six fingered ribbons
preserved in parrafind sand
And that a rose sleeps in the Gemini.
But there was a couple kissing in heaven
That looked maybe seven whose hands held only five
And seven were their daughters singing
That the eight hides where the spades reside
And a rose sleeps in the Gemini.
Elephants are good for many things, poachers
Use nightscopes, Kenyans cable snares
Tanzania cyanide
They take them down before the ivory is gouged
From out the living brow
And a rose sleeps in the Gemini.
Baileen too, whales are used for collars and glue
For them there is penthrite or a cold harpoon
I watched one die smiling in the rip tide
good blubber gone all down its spine
And a rose sleeps in the Gemini.
Less lucrative though no less necessary, debarking a dog
Although easier I hear just taking the ears
Sticks and stones w nothing to mind,
They incise at the throat
And a rose sleeps in the Gemini.
Others in the courtroom or bed blow for blow
w leashes or sometimes lines of coke
I like to reign them by the hair and ride
dig an elbow in, or over a chair until they’re broke
And a rose sleeps in the Gemini.
Like the temple I’m looking at now, a chancel fire
Against the clouds, looking more like a giant well
Or some ancient lighthouse somebody felled
From whatever brimstone sea from begone seas
Of places and purpose whose name escapes me.
And the fennec descends from the morning light
Like a blood born bard to Eurydice twice
Like Jerusalem in etamine when Judith came
Defenestrate w the head of epimanes
And Ive already robbed the sun dye.