Torch to feet blessed

sunder and sundry

never would egress

from holdover country

I’m a second dog

jettisonned, red-blooded

American, neck-deep in

medicine, that syringe inoculates

with foul play and grenadine,

judge, jury, and history,

hotels and mezzanines,

would you take my penumbral vaccine?

You’ll carry out my legacy,

fight and draw steel for me,

validate my heresy,

take the trash out back and dome it.

Take your research labs and shove it,

grants and fellowships will fatten up your budget,

silhouette of a minuteman loading up his musket,

Hartwell and Breakheart, get out before the dusk

it’s centuries of this.

Raising up a flag from the seventeen hundreds,

few were quakers, most were of the puritan persuasion,

a small town makes a chronal bed that I lay in,

and I guess I’m staying,

torch to feet blessed,

locked inside my chest,

my inheritance will rest,

just infer the rest.





the place that contains the list of the containers of words