Saturday, April 23, 2011


Meaty hands
are the simpler version,
she said.
Obligatory hug peanut-shaped,
gets pulverized.

'You're All Toast' struck a cord
with the slimy party streamers –
their first real glimpse
of a world a little bit crunchier –
tragic umbilical fluorescence.

Once only an autistic, 400-word per minute typist
could captured the mood
of mutancy – today your average porno store
can do it in a small measuring cup.

Cooked up gristle of emergency
Hot Pockets in vats.
At the same time a chemical protoplasm
with too complicated
a flavor for the silver wrapper
to stomach.

Velcro dollar TV dinner – ripped off with
a patch of black hair.
Steam-powered Valentine's Day chocolate
for her, bursting at the seams.
Those were polymers any gnostic
could've told you were superfluous -
teeming on the blind side of the red
cosmic skein.
When the gross animated gif
took a turn for the even worse...

Hooters pathos lost in the drudgery
of a squeegee. In the tent, a servile
silhouette disguising the pig brains
in their eyes.

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