bar code

i ride a  uni-cycle blindfolded

through the valley of the shadow

of  hacks

dewy faces of  the insatiable

illuminated by the glow of the burning

bodies of work

bleached pasteurized then gang raped

spiritually drawn and quartered

assembled again in archipelagos

so far off shore

that life can be had

for under a dollar

frosted cream filled visions

moist around the edges

packaged emphatically to retain

more dreams left in trash bins

roadside assistance

and the  celestial coronation

of wal*martyrs

all neatly packed in among detritus

appeals flash frozen

and alphabetized

in order to facilitate

repulsion