Give it the sun

Soft skeletons
wishing their bones away
at the face at the wall
of an unresponsive prison
screaming
shut out this crawling
shut out this moving dream
of night
we will never be
tell me when i come in
let out
our minds have grown ropes
oh walls
oh wrestling big
one among the other we walkspit
compete
stuck together
with no other pastime.

grass

We will never be
let out
but you know a joke
so let us hear it.
Magnified
bits of plenty
reconstituted
like
like
beef
like
sideways
like
which is on
sale
the bones
of the skeletons
laying down of course being sideways
grifting their slate
up on nothing
a sandbag
a gardener toiling free
(sarcastic)
master everlasting his ground hard his
his hard ground his everlasting master
and flowers his pricks of jubilant lust
when they bloom
but what if they never come?
when they bloom
An endless winter?
A renegade maggot?
a churlister chopping rock
graying its frays
whittling the henhouses to dust
whittling the streets with speaking

Carpenter carpenter build me a street
of bones and pricks and mismatched feet
what will this sagging grass have for its run?
Give it the sun. The sun.