Rose Luddites

Thorns and resin,
bouncing fabric, panties
new material, sweaty Lycra,
king of boogie Schwinn paving
women, some men, many women,
some homeless in a river of blood,
hiding from the boss in a pine needle
whale-size pit of Mrs. Wood,
a friend who understands jade, serpentine, turquoise,
her aching Bluetooth corpse
transforming to the beat of
lipstick Chinese assault –
toothless victim moustache Jews,
THE PIT is our chance
to do THE PIT – buying in ileosocal stakes,
one inch away from puncturing the left lung,
no chlorine bulls, no chlorine bears,
firm odor of Iranian apartments,
extreme bathwork – bliss of loneliness
late to the horn shaking on couches,
pulling on tubes rejecting skeletons, skeletons all around,
friends and acquaintances offended and offensive,
crawling into the checkout zone, mi nuh romp with it,
better in shade of Trismeria, singing in a plankton key,
hammer to the eyeball of your very near, another sky –
freedom workers left a sheet of paper under your windshield,
and here we go again, joyful waste manzanita torque, white skulls,
green grass, loose rope sherpa burning My trash, these godless paved,
PIT moving like hitters, the PIT movement gets away, tripe festering,
aching for the tall Hispanic aisles, pit maneuvers between us