tom taylor - coma tiyiyippee

coma tiyiyippee

i stumble from bed tripping on my feet again
this swagger behooves me not to red ryder but
his imitators on the hubble of the remnants of
this seventh inning stretch, your mouth all dry

it’s a near day we find collapse around the corner
and friends falling from high-rise buildings like
magritte’s famous divers. what to do no jails for
them as faults themselves not at all in the new day

still, we’ll watch and make notes and prepare our
reports for someone to care over in the silence of
our massive outflow of spirit into the quicksand of
new lives held open by the beast within and then some