|The Digits Of Your Hands And Feat
here's another 10 by virtue of the fact that
i hang loose, dead: free space in
the disk that sliced my head in
more ways than infinite.
my fingers: tomatoes ready for slicing by
whoever has the bread knife.
they ask questions like "what's the difference
between butter and cheese?".
my point is: i don't know.
22 Sep 08
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Were I a genius among
a captain of heathens,
would it be lousy?
would it be crooked?
Give in to the absurdity of the words
"Earwigs who creep in deep"
"Candles in my ears burning"
Mosquitoes shove their knife lips in, through my skin.
you might've written an H in an O
on your [h]airfield, bay-bee-oh --
you keep still so the moschiquito
won't have to drive it in deep-oh
and steal your red greasy oil-ee-oh.
both clog up the arteries.
both, rask, yes, among a captain
of lousy moschiquitos walking on
crooked absurdity, words red in
creepy and cheesy butterings.
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