Body machine

Inexorably directed at orifices

Directed at orifices


Which Karl Jung would interpret as symbols

Of archangels.

Pray, she is not single also, say heaven.

I married once, maybe twice.

I cooked bagels.

My wife told me the trash men pick up dirty barrels on Tuesday,

Sometimes Thursday, depending on the weather.

Which I would, wondering if trash cans

Are orifices, too



River Styx 12

The LSD canoe

Lovers timid and timed without reverb in Calcutta

Perfection face

Rancid verse rancid

On Friday 12 lovers, lament

Not yet wicked storm

All skinny sin over you

All skinny sin and sin


Seeking accomplishments, we ride cars, then die



Why should I brush my teeth

When all my friends are dying

Like dead leaves?

The nuns taught pray.

Tarzan clings hope.

The wheel and the rocket ships

The computers my mother

Rolling past the virgin stars.

I must mow the lawn.

And dust.

My lamps are dusty

Shall I now dissect worms?

Spade the clay?
many now prefer the oceans.

Maybe pine for me.

Place my psychiatrist



2 thoughts on “3.

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