On the edge of plastic grace

On the edge of plastic grace -the graveyard of the poorly made -injection molded desperation The heavy smog in the valleys of South China, diesel sticking to your skins, sweating in your lungs, your rough ride across the dead fields in the mini bus the empty wall where once was a list of the honored dead the wood's still lighter there the new worship swallowed the old the revolution’s over now time for the noble peasant to earn his salt, her salt, the child at the fevered machines the toxins free and radical in your blood stream they're all dead in there, death in aisle 5 the greeter pocked and humming with hormones convulsing from the sugar spiked and unnatural fats bloating the body out...out to distorted forms of pores and puss sold for less these CDs the convergence of greed, packaged by Christian morals Christ would deny, these ghost made solid, frozen culture, cheese puffs and evangelicals, “protect the Jew for conversion, -the oven, the stage design for the Jesus’ homecoming” You’ve changed since I’ve seen you last, blue contacts, straighten your hair, gained some height and muscle tone, changed faiths, gone corporate, what happened to your man kissing ways, days of plucking gain with unwashed hands, and calling no place home. The hymn of the working poor, the walking dead, The cycles of florescent lights...the dry sea floor of the Higgs Field, Leaving fossilized ghosts, outlines of life, the scattered useless heat Illusions in the desert, price cut in the heath and beauty, I was raised here in these miracles a slave and master, eating the world and the mark of the beast reads “can I help you?” the and pins reads “save the unborn” so many unborn, dragging our screaming regrets through the hells of houseware unborn, unknown, I see my Uncle at the slave auction, he says ‘Gentlemen, look on this wonder!  Whatever the bids of the bidders, they cannot be high enough for it;  For it the globe lay preparing quintillions of years, without one animal or plant;  For it the revolving cycles truly and steadily roll’d. This is not only one man—this is the father of those who shall be fathers in their turns;  In him the start of populous states and rich republics;  Of him countless immortal lives, with countless embodiments and enjoyments. A woman’s Body at auction!  She too is not only herself—she is the teeming mother of mothers;  She is the bearer of them that shall grow and be mates to the mothers.” WE SELL FOR LESS, INRI Uncle, how did you find me? Recognize me, through my dull eyes? He pays, so much he has paid for me, how often I betray him, and let myself wander too close to the drunken English on the Ivory Cost.   And he says to the night manager: “Do you know so much yourself, that you call the slave or the dull-face ignorant?  90 Do you suppose you have a right to a good sight, and he or she has no right to a sight?  Do you think matter has cohered together from its diffuse float—and the soil is on the surface, and water runs, and vegetation sprouts,  For you only, and not for him and her?’ And the man replies “I want to hurt so I know I can hurt” Ahh ahhhhh....constant noise, sleeping with the TV on