Friday, January 20, 2012

CUCKOO COCK

They say it's easy to escape because the sanitarium's only
barbed wire spends its time trying to overpower the baby tree
in the middle of the courtyard.

It's possibly my buddy Cyclops' first real close glimpse of
the real world. His first real one-eyed close-up of a
medium-to-rare steak was probably afforded when he was wearing
a medium-to-rare steak on his head.

I'm in luck //
Just have to take my foot off the armadillo //
Good bye, armadillo.”

On the steak's plateaus // microbes' legs were being amputated //
The death-dance of an approaching rake // that would clear them all away //

We hook up with two conjoined Cinderellas // at a themed grocery store //
Aleister Crowley in his signature sweater // fluffy with Hell's steam //
Beneath a cuckoo clock waiting for // the hour to strike 13 //
At first mutely hiding behind a badly positioned // fanny pack //
behind the Barbie Doll Eye Patch™ // behind Grace Jones' radiator //
a clown phallus jumps out.”

It's not the sort of welcome from the “real world” we were expecting.

With skin stretched taut across your face,” he says to the demonic “cuckoo,”
how do you sleep at night?”

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