Wednesday, March 7, 2012
What does it mean when your baby Is born
with Blonde Streaks? I don't know, but my daughter
was born with the longest consecutive win streak in NFL history.
Some of them bear the silvery streaks of birth.
Mini cunt lice has a spectacular aura
(another more detailed examination to follow)
but he wants me to flower it in my tent
so he can have a bonsai bud.
We’re so good together
I have to cling to him until the panic subsides
but who here is hazardously wearing their fatigue?
at most it’s a numerosity, a gasket, momentary
disarray, a carry-on cot in the already Radon fuselage.
So I stick to misspelling words like “Organising”
and sucking the monsoons out of parties
posing fetchingly as Larva Croft by a fence.
Free-style dancing across soundproof pleats
in my silvery-streaked burn-scarred nickelplated nickels.
My son wants me to legalize his bronchitis. I said sure.
His dad is an autocratic friend of my enemy friend.
Am I milling correctly? Is this the pre-debris-trail-plane?
Cassocked johns are dancing, free-style, around
my titanic hairball roadside mausoleum. It’s real,
my titanic, and the choke response, and the resurrection.
It’s you who’s the display case.