Friday, March 11, 2011


Godzilla of blue Smurf crotch electro waffle lust  
bugs for Kate Bush occult screwdriver forebrain yew-yaw  

struggle for alignment of the internal organs on the Mexican platter
my navel out of danger crafted by the most skilled medieval cosplayer,
the instant my mom said, ‘Get your shit together!’

put the unstoppable Puppet’s boxing glove
helium speaking those words into perspective –
insects behind the sunny sitting room window hate
inundate their feet with Fanta pee try in vain to flee
feel important when their little hairs singe and smell good
on the cold radiator

therefore ideas grow out of acupuncture
their epic sojourn in the crawlspace of the janitor’s vintage hessian trousers
to eclipse, to educate, to repeat the mistakes of our nervous system
a view in three dimension of the ballad from the balcony
betraying propellers on the caps on the soft susurrating notes

and now a dollar stays gone, its value a cross-stitched haunting
braces for a life of perpetual hectic roaming on the proboscis
of my father’s broken 1964 Cadillac

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