Wow, this author writes about life-size trash.
Some of it comprises the tail of a comet.
Check out the stain's flattened pearl;
turtle-oil operatically launched by
the clockwork's orange sock;
body parts covered in the dew
of a surreal multiverse, etc.
Although because of generic murder-acts,
hot polymers crackle at the cores of
a billion free e-books,
this stem cell impaler is Tron
all lizard-frontal again,
a radioactive pauper popping
enemas throughout SimCity
with the decaying cucumbers
of a BMX:
lift in the wind:
a bloodied pickax signals forgiveness
of the apocalyptic seamonster's gland.