Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Evolutionary History is Child's Play

if she rejected things, the things
she denied were crystal warts -fruit
in a tree of refracting, and slid over
the schwesterns scattaract, yet one, goonow -
and one only, one golden hairy flowing thing
that was firm, legal, balsam and even luminously
blue, no greater than a cricket’s kris kraft
game horn, no more than thought's rehearsal as day,
a speech of the shi-self-shelf that must sustain
itself on peach and pringo, and salgam.
one thing remaining in that cascade of neon fin arrays,
the infallible duo of lens-light-wart would be
enough. Ah! douche crampagna of that arty thing!
Ah! douche grampagna, honey lube the heart valve,
Green in the body, pistaccio of a petty phrase like
all talk to elongated horses has been curtailed by a gooey paddle
pulled out like Auther Sampson's sword
Out of a thing believed, a thing mermaided or affirmed:
The yellow form on the pillow manta humming sleeps,
grrrths of vue, the hymnall aureole towered above
nipple grooming house. Imagine some new aesthetic
based on nothing you know, based on something
you might be afraid to know:
What if all it took was a gorf in six places
and a box of red paper to the right person?
A fish comes up only once to breathe.