Sunday, October 7, 2012

Muse Doctor



The desk is filled with chronic papers always wanting to solve their own illness

The only depression I feel is the cleft where my male part goes, I am propulsion


The event horizon is breakfast: two eggs better than tits/a keyboard/a dream


I'm a burning ball of fire and feel mandated to 'get things done', therefore I scream


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Thursday, October 4, 2012

The Judgment Of Paris



Over the chest-high cinderblock border wall the laundry line sags with tops and towels.


In this city yard relic with rural, decrepit boughs waist-heavy with tits of green limes

unbred women unrhythmically ill-choose words, convey nothing but craving and belch.


This is the watcher view.  In my hauteur, I am unwitnessed and splendid.


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