Wednesday, April 3, 2013


fo mo po

and Private Marvel quite astupor vapids
at nether speeds he wriths and gnaws
the meltdown ifs inside his ribcage
a well protruded larded keel

his search flies far and lies asunder
stretching to find the finding finder
he’s very lost beyond beyond Mombasa
his compass grunt hijacks but shadows
thrown by agrestic ever ready vacuum
here is his leap into the torn seeing

let wildebeest mount
hothuman model
and beg mahatma to reclone
a mummy cow for us

The torsion calipers (’ relief)

i 4 1 i dont know y
should i remember things
i never did forget

what this rabid structure
of giddy gizzards
of collapsible brainmatter
has to do with anything

this tentative anatomy
of assassination of pasts
i fail to herniate

even those tsetse flies i remember
as they’ve snuggled inside
that 1 last castrated pierogi
i forgot to cull

drop all withs

all association agency
all finely wrought infancylaced hankering
all discreet echoes of swift loneliness

i heard’m talking too
whispering just loud enough
so i could be sure
remission was out of the question

they say life
is a drop of dromophilia
in a sea of cul-de-sacs

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