Wednesday, January 11, 2012


Spanning across short finger parts, Lycra makes for an awkward park bench.
So does even the most genetically modified armadillo.
We shall rather find comfort in coming over to your pad and stroking
your fridge – comfort in the release of soft tissue noises from its casing.
It harbored the mango aesthetic our alphabet uses to lay foundations
at the bottoms of crossword puzzles; unfreed, a trillion snorkels
in the mouths of near-drowning dust mites would tickle – with
their sharp burbles – the soggy carpet on the fridge's rack
that would in time grow from it. The next phase is shape-shifter slime
you'd reprimand your children for taking to every goddamn show and tell.
I've always known that behind every magnetic field sits a hamster.
And that the Milky Way wouldn't exist in its current form if not for this fact.
And that the Victorian-era dildo splits into its myriad components
via pulling a lever with your tongue – a form of deconstruction clowns are
particularly good at making terrifying.

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