Logic is Yellow 5.7.08

(*Disclaimer: cannot indent certains lines so it doesn't read as well as it should since the form adds to the sounds I think.)

At water’s edge the muck sinks hard from factory bombs
the memory of language dripping on
its spit
once standing stone now gave way to collapsing;

Falls into puzzle place, steadily
and with the joy of new life
backwards.
beyond its disappointment
the well paved sky ahead
clouds moving as family dreaming forward
the early sun too afraid
to mix
and mingle with the primary colours
the collapse of reason
the ritualizing of a vigorous sexual night.

Superstitious golden shards
breaking time into the meaning of collective fire
forgetting that Their story isn’t
worth shit
not to be trodden down by the pick-a-penny passengers
dancing in the grease of their very own lie –

Why does your ego think itself a master of reason;
cannot control whether to take a piss lively,
in the night.

my anger subsides………
into gentle, debaucherous bounding sky.

Alone, trying to pry sense from it all,
into the desperate feel of thighs –
the smell of a wooden plank, salty sound of scales
biting down
a meal to a worm, finally advancing the line.