Sunday, January 2, 2011

A CRAZY PERSON IS WEARING MY JACKET

ask the end of the world to do its fire cow impression
enlightening, that doomsday gestalt on the horizon –
spooky mimicry of bovine protagonist of dairy comic
more interesting to me is the blurring of lines between the Stalin and the Chupacabra Tellytubbies – it breathes new life into the inanity of my bacon eggs benedict

Miyagi is getting weaker, napping with pingpong paddle together on the couch; I can write all of my karate dreams on my forehead now

the examiner is only an impresario, his luminous legacy forever imposing the sounds of sanitation
but all strangely hued, none tactile, like the roots of the Twilight Zone –
and none really coming from anywhere, none really sticking their long appendages in anywhere

lampshades on your eardrums – hoping restored vision will bring you, us, the whole expedition party, back to earth
I left my jacket in the psych ward –
the debate team huddling around it was very sensuous –
made you horny and nostalgic just by listening to them

‘when you’re wanted for murder and uncollected garbage –
when the underside of each driveway brick is a raunchy video –
is it instead ethical to –
remove its sixteen teeth?
ALL of its sixteen teeth?’

hilariously missing the point of consensual dentistry
the apocalypse does not lend its sinuses to just anybody
you can’t just rent it like a town hall

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