46 words
What happens to a dream defibrillated?
Does it choke you like a swallowed tongue,
never to be unmasturbated?
Or might it be sung?
Riddle me this, Elohim, so-called:
does it just deprive the eyes of light
in which to swim, appalled?
Or can it ignite?
Play “Misty” for Me, Beethoven
I.
The pure products of America do anal
as the spent end of what once was Europe
waits and wavers, wax on the stem of the Black Pope’s
candle, chalk ghost of the last Neanderthal
bloodline washed from its last daughter’s birth canal
as from a chalkboard or a warehouse floor.
Uterine father – wrist-deep, to the neck – where
do you look when the headlight fills the tunnel? Read more …