amidst the pall of that stalling fall, another crack appears (to disconcert the wall)

the meme said his cousin
died in prison
for selling weed
within saturated folds;

a long-stemmed
blossoming
in a wrinkling, ebony rim.

and sorely dazed
by the absentia of justice
in the starless midnight
of America's dementia

he blazed his dismay
at the phased-in
heaped-on praise

for that recent craze
of pale-faced suppliers
haloed in the haze
of mushrooming
marijuana start-ups.

and though it barely dented
the blurting blurring
of venting invective din

that roles from droll scrolls
trolling the invention
of the virtual viral den

i thought i heard a crack

a hacking into
the shilling shellac

the faintest 
unravelling
of that
one size fits all,
indoor/outdoor
compartmentalized carpet

woven entirely
from the narrative figments
of magical thinking

the propellers of fiction
and compellers of friction

inject in their vested
collective clueless veil.

thus i took it
for an
existential haunting

curling the rarified parchment
of a phantasmagorical
allegorical wall

unfaithfully following
manifested destiny's
pratfalls and stalls

on that
humanity-impaling
objectivized path

of self-fulfilling
disconnection's

original sin

and its suicidal fall.

a poignant reminder
that the clown of distraction,

that Buffoon of Oz
tweeting from behind
his surface scraping
bellicose borders

is but the
fog-shrouding tip
of a stealthy and selective

divisive-delving,
compassion-shelving,
compulsively-selving,
calamity-calving iceberg;

a descending conceit
of time-honoured deceit
inheriting its
colonial
sewn-in discord

from the original pirates'
presumptuous
hoarding starry core

(that sainted society
of anti-social structures)

a multi-pained
patched-in patina
of myth-induced
internal palings

instilled by a
chilling
invention of whiteness,

obscured by the m(isl)edia's
blindered defractions,

forever lurking
in the name of the "security"
of the Powers
that Own

(since no other perspective
could possibly endure
such profit-honing vision)

eternally shoring up
their threat-doling,
demon-foaling,
petrol-patrolling,
democracy-extolling stolen homeland

lest (the spuriously secured,
pigmentially-dearthed,
well-nigh-unearthed,
pride of euro-birth
led to believe they're) We the People

should at long last trample

the dense
fenced
defense

of their
"sole indispensable"

"exceptional"

"us".

* **** * **** * ******* * **** * **** *
- Evan Hawthorn, the 1st of December, 2017