Zoinks

from your wink
   a muzzle of
citrus aerosol;

from your calves
thru the six doorbells
i waste to glaze a
       gaze up;

then to the geezer we see in
the aisles, who dances
  up a flophouse pancake
for the preschool piano;

then to the sandals of no
socks, strollers of no
mothers, all the odd-to
  -you sneers you sink to:

they jitter you flustered
all thru, tho ugh; why
give a shit? why try
  to sort out the fingernails
from the frosted flakes?

then to the Labrador paws
and pillow tags you
  bin; i cringe and

rent a chimney of Egyptian honey,
several bubblewrapped sardines.
oops there is no place now for you
        to stand; sorry --

   i intend to believe in
   democratic cryogenics.

   i intend to arrange an exhibit
   of my many cynically scented neighbors
   who have no taste for sinless burrs.

  outside, from the stairs,
     a sneeze! a
       blush.
 

My Friends All Want Me to Save Real Sad

I is just another doe who found
fifty dollars in the laundry room. I
is just the son of a sheepherder's

gorsh! I is just someone who sniffles
when the chestnut trucks honk. I is going
to rent 10 crews to record my fantastic
omg no way no stop okay keep going.

I is o! which is ash and which is ant
across the sunset banisters? (no really
fifty dollars? that's what i said mofo oh

you should call your mother before
we are invaded by the "North Korea iamb")
It is a syrupy prospect and I is sans waffle,
and is exactly refers in every dazed fashion
to a long & low & weak-wristed bathroom yodel.

 

 

 

Get Kind in the Cruel-Aid
 

FOE SHOW: there is a limitless human cruelty.

It seems like if you took a butterknife
to certain golf cart pedal feet --
a "situation" is just a justice seesaw.

But what of a girl burning leather bras
and kinda like--burnt? out? on isreal, um --
Athena on a slip and scream:

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

And you! And you! And you! And you!
Beneath the Cleveland Indians logo
is an emu load of organic pork rinds.

There! The ethical pulse by your earlobe
just swigged a wet dream -- shit!
I forgot to trash celebrities!

I want a crowd of followers
like a graffiti-slathered tank.
Let's fuck in boho laundromats.

Know that lack of an aristocrat hat rack?
That if-I-were-queen blue balls? What's wrong
with God my screen name wouldn't solve?

Humanity is nice for gathering design opinions.
Or to limb shiv and serve with spaghetti.
Or do to other things yeah! uh huh yep.

Or: I loaded down the mirror with the war shit.
It spake thusly unto the me-ish: gather ye
the haircuts of dank saints and circusfolk.

The mirror was kind of a stupid bitch.