rattle around like rusty ball bearings
in old coca-cola cans;
after all, wasn't it the gods
that created us in their image?
so now i wear their banner
with money as my skin
and my dollar-sign-eyes
roll in my head with
skullduggery as their source.
I am feather-foot in thunder clouds -
I'm stepping the ladders of lightening
the ladders of this ivory sin.
But beneath my hammer grasp
i realise that each rung is bone
the bone of those that came before.
now my coca-cola smile is stretched
in glucose heart-beat.
why am i chasing this?
why am i running from the earth?
i loosen my grip
and i allow myself to tumble.
to fall back to the earth that bore me.