You Have No New Messages and They Are All Marked Urgent

After the Pentecostal basement riots

a certain asthmatic might find himself

Who has the power he asks in this red vault hole

to hold fast an unnatural parchment climax?

Might just wash a rope for the kick, the trapdoor

just as well a host piano ridden of its peckers

Protonutcase protected by a corps of generals

singing their favorite shellacs, pantsing the cadets

I will you into a plexiglass castanet, headache hour

the regenerative power is abstruse, obtuse, connubial

Roots of the world, retire to your balloon shorts

On pain of deathless preciousness, side realities

held in external escrow at the edge of a strawberry

Injury, my fellow, my compadre, may you never be

farther than Pluto when I dream of beatings shared

Pluto the reductive dogstar, the thing the emperor

(or was it the furniture king?) swapped his clothes for

Hirohito might have said it better, had this been a movie

of Bogart’s rattle

But I am he of your most ferocious tenting

snapshot, your whipsnake, the wagon latch that dropped

a door on your holy uptake, your penetration west

Cardinal Rivulet spat at the cancer swallows

And that’s how a tinstar melody is born

Or a tarbrush given to the feathered creatures

Expectation is a horrible thing to remove from its dome

That which he most feared was smoke damage to his clothes

He carried destruction in a billfold of human pelts

When they fucked I sang and walls of paper expanded

I shall today send to the bell for confirmation, that car

And how her nipple was worshipped by the hobbits

Where the feet of The Somme still patrol sharpened logs, taunting

And Cambodian keychains present you at Oedipal court

Yudhisthira has left the building, before it was built, burning cold

and left us alone, the countess, my Psyche, myself and la maid

Countless? Turn that hand over to me, we’ll roll it back to ‘73

With the dexterity of a body, a radical free foundling

lost in a muffler slide