i’ve had it with people who blur into
my nightmares
which start out
grand
where i’m making czar compost
and growing things
grand
brainchildren sprouting from
a contemporary art brainscan
but some pissant
comes along – many
pissants, wearing bear-like
hats, wearing care bear hats –
flourishing
primitive farm tools,
czar composting
growing leather cloths vintage enough
to wipe dish soap
dimensions
but by god i never thought
my
robo-shower was going
to start
complaining as i stood washing
under its murmuring
spouts emptying gloves full
of excrement
dressing awkward dirt slipping
nectar obesity
into my pores
generally doing my morning
ritual – rural cologne on their breath,
bitching, ducking at
my kremlin salmonella
which i hysterically and
hilariously
hurl at the fuckers, the solstice
of my shorts waggling
itchy and scratchy mean,
my demeanor
menacing around the glitch of their
gripe, aaron sorkining about
fear hotels my
emotions haphazard
via knuckles spuming at the sky with
handheld saliva shaking
dressing awkward
on my knuckles,
but they’re johnny 5
following regret making the escalator
stronger, pawing at
its own opposite
movement, which is what you get when you defy
my gangly synthetic
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