Sunday Bloody Sunday

vallejo knows the sunday sepulcher is bigmouthed too lizardly greedyguts of what then is us what’s left of the ragdoll jostled all week the dream we postpone or diminish ourselves with this disactivity of postliving used to the who knows the hows the what a shames the world’s been a sunday afternoon for years now the station from where you come back to what you are every time the airports where the staybehinds less lessen where everywhere god is pure echo of that bisyllable that hurts me deepinside (sundayly facedown down which face you’re dying on someone so slowly) thank goodness beginning monday you’ll think about something else