Santa Cruz and the Clocks of Salvador Dalí

all my clocks are wrong

I leave at 9:45,
arrive at 9:58,
and step out into 9:46

this city sucks everything in
spits it all out
and eats it again

time does not bend here
does not stop

the clocks fuck up, stop,
melt

the minds of my friends
have fucked up, melted,
failed them us

this city is a few degrees warmer
wax melts at room temperature

wax sculptures,
my friends laid down their guns
have quit trying

to understand the nightmare of economics
have quit trying

the clocks do not melt

my friends,
defenseless,
cannot even find them

slowly cultivating addictions
to apathy, to melting clocks,
surrealism

“YOUR LUCKY NUMBERS”

Torture centers: salad days
muggers and drug dealers
A vibrant young woman—her torso was found
Agents business suits
pregnant in her third trimester
Finally, the grim discovery: a listless economy
an early-to-bed teetotaling president
Richmond has murders every week,
and those figures are expected to rise
Evelyn Hernandez was pregnant with a second child
Agent Orange
Pakistan, Zimbabwe, Iran, China, Malaysia, Japan, Britain, Vietnam,
Ethiopia, Sudan and Germany
an apocalyptic landscape of pitch-black hallways, sagging ceilings and empty 
chasms
the U.S. military
“shackled, belly-chained and escorted by two deputies,”
the most innocent of victims.
“Our greatest hope” would have been
CRAWFORD, Texas—
the recovery of a body
DNA tests just after Labor Day,
U.S. air strikes
half-eaten food
vague threats curious missions
murder charges
love notes from German women
five Palestinians killed
After weeks of claims to the contrary,
No arrests have been made.

[click to view introduction]