Tuesday, January 3, 2012

THE DEMONIC MILK MAN

Laughter properly villainized,
scattering all the spiders
on the flower,

crystals in the placenta.
Mostly blue ones like intravenous Orcs.

With the help of all the nuclear conditioner
in a hair's world, this process
almost siamesed
the spiders' cheekbones.

Brokenness known to
the Happy Meal toy
demon milkman 
 
- draped in gold silk
some hormone-enhanced silkworms
in a sweatshop had made
for him, who'd fucked you –

Above the pain in his chest
his dog was ordered to put a hat.
In the large dark cavity
head-muck supposedly Play Doh-ed
its own little weather system,
which felt good.

Of course, like a scarecrow separating
in the wind, this entails major atomic overload:

a force that once put a potato
behind the karaoke mic,
told it not to sing but to hover

and hover

and hover

mechanically dolphinized its face;
as if it were a fish bowl, bleached it;

and into the same potato's asshole
fired a miracle from
a Nerf gun.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Search This Blog

There was an error in this gadget

Followers