all the fool’s mettle


i snort the gun smoke from the air

and blow serpentine rings around

the faceless square appendage

of the system of domination and

control. his static features ever

awash with the vanilla waters of

a dime store dummy in the dirty

wake of a backhanded deluge.

he thumbs the hammer of his

hidden hand cannon with the all

the fool’s mettle in his pyrite eyes,

with clandestine wars in the pirate

skies of a nuclear neverland alive

in his artificial heart and i forgive

him of it. i vaguely dimple in grin,

a rogue bead of analog sweat

cuts his digital brow, a screen

saver cycling of emotions crawls

across the desktop faces of the

coma patrons in the greasy

spoon guts of a midwest whale.

his index finger itches and i stare

into his little mary intent, travel his

strings to their source and sever

him free from the sinister fetters

of his poor soul’s control bar to

do with his will whatever he wish.

he swallows a baseball and

re-steadies his hand, quickening

tears trembling from eyes having

before never seen. i don’t blame

him for this either, instead unfold

my astral wings, once of atomic

fire, now composed of cosmos.

grand layers of midnight feathers

garnished in galaxies wrap my

shoulders and the acronym agent

puts his pistol on the table and

excuses himself into the skin of a

shining new paradigm. i tuck my

wings away and sip the good

fight, catch a rebel case of

ruthless eye contact through the

picture windows bound in

backward words and inverted

geometry with a carousel caribou

carved from the chest of a brash

brazilian olivewood. we share an

endless clarity of gratitude in the

way station between worlds.

moa and neut push past the logo

glass and take root in the booth

my mirror. holy circuit of our

sacred trinity complete, we sow

seeds of power into our

oncoming encounter.

tin foil astronauts club manifests

with gusto.