avenue song

Warehoused inspiration sewers

dry and overly sipped

overly treaded, stampeded over

The movement here, i believe, is over

brooklyn

The renaissance-flickering

the generation-dying a resonance 

I speak the words and regret them all

I am the after-thought 

the summary. paraphrase.

Day begins, ends with LIVE POULTRY SLAUGHTER

Active? yes.

Under the floors of my own

where I find the calm.

Men in labcoats, gloves

Scientists? no.

Shoveling dried-iced red spotted bags into commercial vans.

Those bloodied guts gloves!

[and how can he drink coffee and bring the massacre hands so close to his lips?] 

chicken intestinechunk left purple shining next to a cardboard flap decomposing 

...slipped form the ripping bags

Yes, poultry screams

poultry cries

and poultry misses their mothers

The smell-

I pain to imagine the magnification in summer heat

the smell-

I wrap my scarf around my face and still my eyes sting

the smell-exponential death

I will carry a cloth in the coming days of warmth

hold my breath like passing a cemetery 

The origin of the superstition?

Sure.  Let us, at least, not smell the slaughter

and pay them that respect.