Eat the Sunrise

Old at 30
was exhausting,
nightmares in the daytime,
nightmares in the night.

Burn the whole damn thing down,
I say,
burn it all:
the pigs sloshing muck up on the big White Hill,
the snakes getting high on
hollering at the girls that walk by
on city avenues,
the spiders hissing and spitting up and down Wall Street,
the sheep sitting on their thrones
licking their money.

Let’s shake rough the dust
off our downy feathers.
Wild beasts we are:
be sex and storm,
be obscene with your laughter,
fuck the winter away,
rock hard and hazardous
to the rhythms
of the thunder
and never fake it,
keep the moans loud and wide.
Eat the sunrise
and spit it back out
if you don’t like it,
but leave your door open
just in case
someone craves
to tell a secret
or at the right angle
the light

comes through.

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