WORD GOO

The big

eye

Or the

big I

Like freight

trains

Performing

their natural

bouncing across a tapestry

spread out upon the lawn.

Something from

that woven world

reached out

and snared his wings

slouched in my undershorts

my tongue a slab of sandstone

slack against my chin

as a gurgling metal orgasm of mercury

spurts out the tops of Americaʼs thermometers

Iʼve come to believe that

sinister munchkins on loan from Satanʼs workshop toil in the Sunʼs Knob & Button Suite

punching dials and tossing switches

until our eyeballs, once rivered with sweat

now puckered like parched currants,

plop out of sockets

No actual Genesis

Just more events in a series of terrible entertainments

Volcanoes spewing hot stew over the suffering earth

Some elephants catapulted over castle walls

The inhabitants struggling with internal parasites and ineffective magic

From a little poem I wrote years ago:

We be the

chuckling pecans

The zenith of existence

to the soul of a crow

in that memory

of Nebraska once ago

Just let us sleep

Just

let

us

because

falling over backwards

This old sun may soften heat

He sits in an

ornately carved wooden chair and his biceps are underdeveloped

metaphysician's vision

of the Final Moment

there's a heavenly truck

coming my way

with its bed full of flowers

giggly balloons & sparkle balls

bouncing over the gate

then I see my name

on an index of misdeeds

pasted to the bumper

just before the tires

rip skid marks

across my

the flying cars

and functional pyramids

stuffed with light furniture

Accept that we don’t

believe you

Our skepticism

the panacea