four poems: penalty kick

my bloody sins are sealed
with slaps of aftershave

i'm feeling strange
I'm leaving work early today

the quick bronx fonz
jumps over two lady johns

la rasuradora habla
la palabra se abra

"great clits has moved
death at a walmart

staccato brushstrokes
neon lamps (they blare

artistically shitstained
rotunda skylight

defeatured landscape
genus misunderstood

the sweetness and nausea
of the beards of gray moss

imbrication or implication
celebration or cell abrasion

whore quire
don't get got

beyond the initial investment
of the shopping cart

magical thin king
define or deafen

где меня переламывало
и перемалывало

(selon noose  I now beat
the proverbial child