Enormous Something

‘Oh Comely’ is a hygroscopic song
stationed over our chests.
A witch doctor, pressing its hands,
remitting shit water to lungs.
Then we kiss like phenyl oxalate,
fluorescent dye and hydrogen peroxide,
lit up like Fukushima connotations.
Come with me, Physarum Polycephalum.
Let me show you the crazy ride of monogamy.
Let me show you how to sink your face into your belly
like Vincent Gallo.
Let me show you the perpetuated meme
with an interpreter on site—
I’m speaking binary to gluten.

Apt 406

I might blame the previous tenant for everything—
for the absence of the drain stopper
in the bathroom sink.
That strange heat coming from the left
is surely the effect of
my neighbor’s passion for stir fry.

I will open a window.
I will cram a wad of toilet paper
down the throat of the drain
as if to obstruct its words;
the toothpaste encrusted vowels
and some traces of liquefied enamel.

This is the future,
and I am still grappling
in this arm lock with the mirror.

My eye becomes its eye,
and I am suddenly nothing but a face
astonished by vision; smiling
shower curtain and wall.

This is an important place
to see yourself,
all that color smeared
with fire.
All that hope in contest.

This is an important place
to see yourself,
you’re off at six thirty           [p.m.]

Blunderbuss

I’m going to eat some pizza
and hopefully that decision
will distract me for another
twenty-seven years.

In that time,
I could write myself a letter
I just don’t know which year
to make it out to,
which era to crush.

The disappearing poems;
mass of uncovered straw
burning television blue
with no mention of static.

Weird fucking owl eyes
where I would normally sleep.
A tormented understanding of oxygen
before Jehovah or Joy Division.

I could write myself a letter,
softening blows by way of Seppuku
per light-year dance.

Go to the big rock,
I’ll say.
That will be a good place.