UNDER THE RUG

on dynamo Tuesday, when the clothesline dives through the nauseous sky

apocalypse of Vaseline ambience creeping through chicken-eyes

a view of the room as seen by the bedside lamp of the superhuman

the faux turbine of his dullness

our maid’s favorite thing to do: turn the baklava template into a coarse rug

who uncovered your identity, Sophie? How long did you think you’d be able to keep this extracurricular persona up? Tuesdays were your only day off and where were you?  

the interior of which ‘perfect place’ did you hide hyper-articulating the curse of the white triangular sandwich?

comic books were the first to invent your prophylactic – my bad friend, in short, whom you helped me drop into the nuclear reactor

soon the earth turned into the backs of Sharon Osbourne’s ears, on which an echo was ulcerously overcooking…

TWENTY YEARS LATER:

our housekeeper has become such a powerful agent

though a devoted TRON fan since learning about the tungsten bowling pin

in his butt

by smuggling these and other downers into our dreams

all non-believers look pretty horrible when walking into the deli where you shop – they grow scales, forked tongues and weird mohair waistcoats

things have been looking pretty horrible since my cologne backfired, Sophie

you wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?

why is it that above the street are suspended countless Hoover nondigestibles?

the dogs sneeze   

do you hear them, Sophie?

MORNING AFTER

your greatest fear speaks in the comical broken language of a friendly brown islander

wears blazer and Oxford Dictionary Sadface – its internal monologues in sweatpants, occasionally barging out of the room unprovoked, self-satisfied

dyslexic Radio auto-erotic auto-tune  

hunched on the bed, whiskey breath, after awakening

beside bloody chopsticks – literally the last words of the murdered ukulele

with grandmother’s embroidered placemat for a condom

PRISON DATE RAPE

glass of lemonade in red clown lipstick
the housewife making the roofer named Ellis restless in the pneumatic backyard pool
a daily family cliché – hell freezing over is meant to be a musical experience after all
the earth’s core is doing multiple quads
I find it tasteless
the clouds forcing an erection
all her work, including her sleepy pout, stolen by the spirit in the cotton wool
it loves good – is good at loving – but it is also responsible for Moscow’s leggings making a fool of themselves in Don Draper’s infomercial
a small dollop of sour cream on his neon green baldspot determines the creative director’s altitude in the scheme of things
and then this happened: a laundry haircut
back from the dead to this hotel – a hypothalamus in the basement as big as the Ritz, stroked lecherously by the janitor, stoically sought after by vendors circa 1920, its bristles raising like shining daggers all across its fine chamois hide
like a spark, the stress of daily living kisses everyone, its own airplane papercraft used for pleasure by viruses in test-drive frenzies
this reproductive frap placed down on the counter before me by the attractive girl
my eyes are like antique dog parks
they return the same inkling: the cracked, burnt, sort of charming, humus image of what our children would look like

PLEASE HELP ME FIND THE DOLLAR I LOST

Godzilla of blue Smurf crotch electro waffle lust  

bugs for Kate Bush occult screwdriver forebrain yew-yaw  

struggle for alignment of the internal organs on the Mexican platter

my navel out of danger crafted by the most skilled medieval cosplayer,

the instant my mom said, ‘Get your shit together!’

put the unstoppable Puppet’s boxing glove

helium speaking those words into perspective –

insects behind the sunny sitting room window hate

inundate their feet with Fanta pee try in vain to flee

feel important when their little hairs singe and smell good

on the cold radiator

therefore ideas grow out of acupuncture

their epic sojourn in the crawlspace of the janitor’s vintage hessian trousers

to eclipse, to educate, to repeat the mistakes of our nervous system

a view in three dimension of the ballad from the balcony

betraying propellers on the caps on the soft susurrating notes

and now a dollar stays gone, its value a cross-stitched haunting

braces for a life of perpetual hectic roaming on the proboscis

of my father’s broken 1964 Cadillac

SHARP TEETH WHIMPER

in the whorl

peachy is lizard and acne is saint

but orgy gleefully,  

swamp arm-wrestle and crackle crockery 

suggested by garters,

the ladder’s flurry of ascending shaved chins

close the door on the way down, will you?

the handicapped created from scratch

apply sunscreen to violate your cement

flowering as great reminder of clockwise knowledge

surprise thwarted machine –

getting ready to hog countenance

in coffee bars, it’s considered trendy to revive the epidemic

complex shadows in the Mojave to protect you from antlers

relief just seems larger

Kim Yong IL Skywalker the Third done dressing up his troops for today

with the largest blinking of butterfly eyes

now he's off summoning his beef

from the horizon’s thinnest twig

AN IMITATION OF ART

winter day Arcade

euthanize Splendid 

mistaken for feud

why some people

have a multiple

Pacemaker

Helped wreck

Sexual tension and

long-standing

Golden Girls

Old habit Grill

Don’t think Disfigurement

Is good use of

Mozzarella Arm

Watch while I

Fetch those planets Out

of Goldmember

Forces of Wool-like

Don’t stare at

Astronomer long

Mumbles Constipated

Plastic surgeon

Demonstration of human

In his sleeve

Fuzz eyebrows Minecraft curb

No effect on

Machete which

mouth rarely Remorse

Be kind to Unhinged

Hug put down in ear of

The troubled

Smudge-policing

Crashes Unclutter

chapstick

Glut of sin

is dead for

Now

Flares between

Marquees

WII RAPE

Its rapid digestion of toxins

nun epiphany’s pushpin fractals and  

contiguous Rubik’s Cubes

They prove too great and consuming an influence

what brings Wii anchovies to the candid staggering splat

what brings us traumatically short on chicken

an unremarkable thing does –

An adequate substitute for solar

cryogenics – our sick town is far more important than a

lousy star, and had watchfully had first dibs   

Impostor!

its thousand-edged sneeze shut down

Vote for rape demo’s delayed embarrassment

since I painted its stagnation a hundred years long

and three feet wide, our smarter, future selves would know

what to do with it – But I’d

hate to have to huddle over a mere star’s disintegrating freeze

anatomical is the healthier explosion of paint and burn shapes

the ongoing cupcake

robbing our atmosphere – our talented lung lovelies

Though while piñata entrails are tied to gender,

it’s a raw deal to be sold at discount on a vending machine cleanse

New things drum constantly throughout the holy Q&A

missing the beat reduces discomfort