Friday, January 12, 2018

glans ominous

now they thrash
the sad inflatable bladder
before the eye
of the water sword
as if each thin developing curse
were their ship
and the prize alone
would be the shipwreck

a hairy coconut hangs like a brain
alone in a precarious wilderness
of blue fish
and stinging sand
only a miracle food
would worship a penis
in the middle
of this silent color

somehow always they unite
in you the small reticulated scorpion
washed up again in beaches
in a corked bottle of ye olde parables
of talent and trapped inside
with a bright green lime
how slippery is the skin crock

but who came to peter
in the dome of rabbits
is no mystery
it was a soft dry lens
which spoke
of a hard dry table
and so now they thrash

all inside the watersword
and the grey gumbs
of the hairy coconut
are nailed up in pieces
on the mast

for all is miracle
and all insane as well
bon voyage!

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