the soup changes its flavour
long after they turn off the lights
I sit in my blighted oasis
i preach to the birds
torn into pisces I write
"gun! boo! tree! door!
bye! eclair! succumb! whore!
outside under the coverlet of night
chinese girls like dolls chatter over drinks
words are underagents in their souls
light is a reflection off their nethers
你看到他的臉嗎？
他看起來很蠢！
i consider the street the vectors
of pleasure and pressure
l'appel du vide is strong this evening
but there is nowhere to call
what do wrists have to do
with teeth?
hark! a metonymic ghost approacheth!
the panic behind the drywall shows
the cadence of the police siren onslaught
reminding me of the skeleton's dance
the foot bone's connected to the—
ass bone
meanwhile his sister places a dot on his forehead
they feed a crow and highfive an ox
faster and faster and faster they spin
sister crow ox/cow dog brother
the teevee news sez
father said she choked on milk
but we scrutinize every batch
on the nose (though the nose runs away sometimes
still i tell myself despite all the
donkey favours people will make it gold
it will probably rain i ought to
gather my spindly and broken thoughts
but when I straighten my back my face stiffens
suddenly i feel my mother in my eyes