experiment 338: if i was a cowboy

Home is ever-changing, unfixéd mark,
gathering dust, hack-cut flowers in greening water
folding back, browning, white mold on stem,
cracked leather always something to buff,
dust, fix—
and in all this decadence of decay
we hire staff to manage, maid/gardener—
begrudging, spray the leaves of the dead.

experiment 337: besalo

incredible, lacking empathy
i made sure you know
how much money
is in my bank account.

uff

una vida sin cojone
es nada sin poder.

giving cash, hand over fist
we have nothing but that.

falsehood of our livelihood;
run a tongue
down the barrel of a gun.