MY MYIASIS...
FREUD’S FATHER
“I have no gag reflex” she lip-sunk through a kiss of coral margarita
when the limpid dream was still contraband
and coyotes scoured imps in convertibles like houngans
swinging fists in sugarland trysts at wiretied wrists.
CASU MARZU
A weekend in three days despoiled to an areola of pentacles tonsil massaging
“I have no gag reflex” she lip-sunk through a kiss of coral margarita
when the limpid dream was still contraband
and coyotes scoured imps in convertibles like houngans
swinging fists in sugarland trysts at wiretied wrists.
CASU MARZU
A weekend in three days despoiled to an areola of pentacles tonsil massaging
the angels trumpets in the emperors clothes.
ROMAN TRAFFIC
No one came for Phoenician columns, lawn-dart injuries
ROMAN TRAFFIC
No one came for Phoenician columns, lawn-dart injuries
or room temp botargo and both of us prayed
that my sperm were as drunk as I was that evening.
JUJU ENTERICS + OVERLOOK
Twas a tiny hatchet or a spiny hammer brothers mallet or halls of blueberry terrine
that my sperm were as drunk as I was that evening.
JUJU ENTERICS + OVERLOOK
Twas a tiny hatchet or a spiny hammer brothers mallet or halls of blueberry terrine
dribbled like tiny slivers of silver
over the menace of Venus on the half shell.
SERPENTINES
When all else failed,
we could always stare lethargically into the camera with dirty spectacles and meditate on the inequities of crooked portrait photography and
over the menace of Venus on the half shell.
SERPENTINES
When all else failed,
we could always stare lethargically into the camera with dirty spectacles and meditate on the inequities of crooked portrait photography and
weep lagrima like a capric(a) in a rocketship town.
VOLTA
Our dilemma if not direful, if not malefic, if merely celluloid in nature would be the envy of Fellini, not just cheese-skippers kids pattering bin-bags like maggots down and out.
TWO FLOORS FROM ROKY
Twas 11th floor elevators ajar on clandestine decks betwixt the gentle strangle of the lagoons hands and the uncomfortable secrecy shared by you, and him, and her, and I.
SMALL BIRDS
And from the choke of the fledge leaks the clink of the vapor from which I emerge
“a gift for the family” painted in corpuscles.
"We are unity consciousness" piping to nest plummet,
From brainsick giddy fowl fencing for a taste of a strangers secondhand elation.
VIOLENT OLD MEN
We descend from the brink hysterical, from the only home we’ve ever had,
so ungulates groomed to personify
VOLTA
Our dilemma if not direful, if not malefic, if merely celluloid in nature would be the envy of Fellini, not just cheese-skippers kids pattering bin-bags like maggots down and out.
TWO FLOORS FROM ROKY
Twas 11th floor elevators ajar on clandestine decks betwixt the gentle strangle of the lagoons hands and the uncomfortable secrecy shared by you, and him, and her, and I.
SMALL BIRDS
And from the choke of the fledge leaks the clink of the vapor from which I emerge
“a gift for the family” painted in corpuscles.
"We are unity consciousness" piping to nest plummet,
From brainsick giddy fowl fencing for a taste of a strangers secondhand elation.
VIOLENT OLD MEN
We descend from the brink hysterical, from the only home we’ve ever had,
so ungulates groomed to personify
Sardinians may enjoy our helplessness in moderation along wine, song, and celebration.
ESTRANGEMENT
Twas codicals in your codicils, notes of entanglement,
A third eye arose from my girl's pierced paunch.
From meat and potatoes,
ESTRANGEMENT
Twas codicals in your codicils, notes of entanglement,
A third eye arose from my girl's pierced paunch.
From meat and potatoes,
the routine poutine, err...putain
from lips behind the nervousness of blush and the chance-medley of rouge.
FAILURE
As boy and girl, sister and brother, father and mother we’d brought stout offerings to their "tallest" and grew up thinking Guinness was an over-the-counter cure for indigestion.
FREUD’S MOTHER
We grew up too soon and left in a hurry too late as sunburns become as rock & roll as humanly possible and the slow-dance of cry-babies, larval in the hedgerows grew grey
FAILURE
As boy and girl, sister and brother, father and mother we’d brought stout offerings to their "tallest" and grew up thinking Guinness was an over-the-counter cure for indigestion.
FREUD’S MOTHER
We grew up too soon and left in a hurry too late as sunburns become as rock & roll as humanly possible and the slow-dance of cry-babies, larval in the hedgerows grew grey
and derailed into your daughters throat.
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