Terrence Folz

Avid genome.
Crystal aubade.
The mathematics of collusion
breaks rancid
toward the spotty shell of desire.
Tailgate drops.
Puzzle ramparts red as
a beefsteak tomato.
Time.
And lies.
And gravy worship.
Broken wire.
Stopgap.
And a thick, dead boil of
yeast.
How it sits truncated in a cavern.
Old men on a shuffleboard
court
count wayward paintstrokes
on a dark open sky.
And eyes fail to master
mind.