CHICKEN COOP SUPERNOVA

unwinding an ulcer

into dots, and watching

them float languorously on the surface

Pizza Hut is no

longer a 200km-wide

unused overgrown median

strip along the inner thigh

a monster's lobe

diesel-marinated:

these are

basically scrabble letters deep-throated,

chewed, and collated by a puppy

into the words *Blade Runner*

the part of your

brain responsible for keeping

deer antlers

in Tupperware

red shift

sunglasses, like

choking on a phantom limb,

when the irises return

to a point in time immediately

before the Big Bang

paraplegic movement

with respect to

tiny toe

death throes

coral gradient

combing of 3D pinpricks,

the view

is amazing

the

paint can's

numerical value

either a decryption of a chicken coop's

building specifications into

plans for a makeshift

supernova clobbered together

from radially pointing

wooden planks

or

a recipe for opium

but your hangnail no

longer has an appetite

for manslaughter;

but rather for suicide 

 

a new personal challenge

of turning the

grave site's delicious screw

therapy's shoe lining

twisted over the deathtrap

to cover it with

a parking lot