Life in Shadows

In the afternoon
the devil zeppelin
in the sepulture café
destroys pretty young things

he’s certain
the debonair delivery
of the silver medalist mummy
is going dark

and this soul society
is a tedious payphone
surging offbeat nuclei
to wipe obscurity out

as cobblestone crawfish become
the topic sentence
in the old Radio Flyer.

In the seat of the plastic
garden chair,
the devil zeppelin is
a former turbulence,
a nervous bootlegger,
a savage certification
of life in shadows.


Many words gathered from Google search results for the phrase "post-hypnotic woodpile," pages 1-5.   Enjoy!