Saturday, February 12, 2011


pleasant vein tick of mechanical morphine
i’d simply die to deteriorate fluff by fluff
to sneak into the Muppet funeral urn
tartan Ellen DeGeneres i’d seen
her kid lover, hemming the lemming in with pruny thighs
getting stoned on flat bike tire
what was Jackson Pollock thinking when he made
the atlas out of thrown-out food?
do you know why the quirks of other cultures
can be wrenched out of us via hypnosis?
because each continent, before the epic drift, had
carried an unforgettable communicable disease:
jazz, disco, scooters, chicks, bros, braaivleis, surfing
but today’s Manufacture’s been good –
fine i’ll choose to live i’d like to be
the manmade goat getting a taste of what
being aloof must feel like
TV show sums up my feelings about the acoustic oyster
TV lunch’s sandwich nasal delivery
birdseed rye tissue origami table with
feet propped up real cozy and content
and poking like chopsticks from my brave
brook no bullshit nostrils


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