Biased Tapeworms

mutant urban youth growing up on pickles and salami
brains addled from asphalt fumes what drive one crazy
rural kids raised on boomsticks bibles and bigotry
small town big dreams like boys joining the navy
while Peggy's in the barn trying to sing like gwen stefani


1.
in the silence on a night with a wan moon
if a sound in an arroyo like a cricket waking up
a scratching and cracking like twigs underfoot
when skinwalkers stalk the coyote goes silent
tickles of nails on the back of your throat
as the temperature drops and the wind picks up

2.
don't run don't stop and don't turn back
keep on walking same pace and same track
the howls of sandy gusts and the terrible noise
they burst your eardrums and your body destroy
but never turn or slow or rush: You'll become their toy

3.
a marionette of bones, fury and flesh
animated by rage and wendigo's breath
hints of apocalypse and nature's revenge
peeks at our epoch's future: The land of dead ends



spider's work is never done
don't spin in place lest our web be unspun
hunt in others' liner notes
they hardly notice we change our throat
and sing lures with different sounds
each time our snares risk being found
we set our traps and return
in good time our meal we'll earn