Postmodern Poetry – Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

plastic playgrounds only lit during summer months waking caked with crackling moods around the burn of his smirk lifts heavy shovelfuls of snow the richness in suffocating streetlights

muddied birds lifts the colors from their contours in abandoned rusty tugs anchored in says rhythms of graves blacken your pall a passage of moonfrosted cars the smoke that’s coiling around your eyes says shadows crawl out from beneath parked cars like we’re furrowed with septic light waking a king in the broken alleys your running details

his face says you crack open your head and black birds fly out with the ghosts of glaciers pressing us to the streets is bleeding through closure of summer nights the dead who wait there

the elemental mesh floating through forgotten houses during noon’s veils twirling a lurid web a knot of code

voices of the shattered parking lot stains the inside of your eyes with the fragment data of old meoldies in my legs are hungry for the living black river sliced by lights on the shore the lake shuffling mixing itself on the horizon lifts your skin from the muscles in the lice freezing your taper sleeping furiously another blue decay subliminal screams sitting quietly through your time around those empty and avoided houses ravenously scalds the cold houses another blue decay visibly trembles in the pale girl on the porch feet propped up on floods your ears another blue decay

the incessant desolate street constricts to fit his conversation around his hair lightning bugs blooming says rising out of serene residue an arrangement of bleached bones

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