Scattershot Salvo (From the Balconies) [a scattershot poem]

Scattershot Salvo

Thanks to Edward Ruscha

Staring directly into the sun is the only thing I require for nourishment.
Pluto is a vegetable. Snow falls from the heavens, pure,
and we cannot blame the heavens for being soiled by the snow.

A shoe-in Yellow Mellow bailout. Las Vegas neon bleeds in the rain.

My consumer anxiety dreams. Pieta triptychs of foundational fathers
play-acting republican Rome. We now have our Caligula...
“I mean compromise,” he said, and we started to sing,
Frankie and Freddie, as the music from our balcony
was overlaid by the noise of sporadic acts of violence.