Two quartered radishes, consumed
while dressing
for death: diminutive
delicacies,
deviations.
Caressed two words: felucca and bromeliad.
Confused between intended and indented:
intended bride?
indented bride?
Two weeks ago I trod a Notre Dame now burning.
Eviscerating windstorm. Hugged two more words:
janissaries and solan.
So long, Janus-faced blueboy. Nice knowing your spirit
lamp had no hold
on my esophagus.
Topless man jogging past Gothic rowhouses dropped
an “I want to erase
you with my handsome
aplomb” bomb.
Crackers at the ready and an uncooperative banana,
its peel sluggish.
I ride the Internet sidesaddle; I stop to feed
the craving-matrix its oats.
Before groin-mirage of metempsychosis arose,
I entered the Book-
mobile’s pharma-
ceutical cavern.
Father confesses: “You have a good life—you didn’t
make the mistake
of having children.”
Imagine melon in the mouth of Omar Sharif Jr.,
concocted crush. Lucky
or unlucky penny, poised on crack between urine-
scented subway
cement quadrants.
Assaulted by paper flyer (health store brochure) riding the air
behind my neck as I
descend to subway
and imagine tactile pleasure
of fingers landing
on minor and major
seconds in Persichetti
sonatina tonight I’ll
imitate to excavate
what primordial clash?