i was chogged

for il mondignarlu
for the shoulders were as pink
armadillos
snakes moving thru loose grain
to gather at the stone mouth
where the grain came out
and where the mustache knobs
allowed their mouths to grasp
and hold on

i was chogging there
like weeping fruit
the sentence is a box
the sentence is a chog fruit
weeping pink shoulders
streaming with snakes
streaming with pink
alabaster armadillo coins

for il mondignarlu i speak
or she whose green petals
awake the world to revery
its home the secret
to obey the home of space

and the twisted hacked fetish
that is her torse
is not a manse
but a scurry
a fond reckoning with swift
indefatigable
pyramid roofs

a kindness set down deftly
over sunsets
the way a candle goes down over
hips and shoulders
lips and soldiers

minds that even the mucous
between the glittering
empty shrines
that awake to behold
the branching catastrophe

the antennae
which regal the joints
to spurlock flies

the cryptodionysian women
which are as floral astronaut knights
moving like snakes
among the loose
stone grasshopper pupas

for as the stone pupa nose says
i was chogged


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