be available to go
as if this were
only one message
among millions
scattered in your
yard twisting up
into a class five
around your eyehole
an incessant series
of strange incant
ations that will
somehow bring me
back from the dead
"i'll incant!"
he keeps sayin' over
& over gazing
desperately into her
eyehole then filling her
so full of words that
she has no way of
ever knowing the
difference
"i must confess"
it's quite
unfortunate actually
that i can so easily
package everything
up
so nicely
for you
in
"satanic verses"
but quite possibly
there is no pontificality
for you to have even
two words
of that
here it is;
pages & pages of it
fueling cute little
wanty poo's & desirey
doo's akin to little
kitties that purr
crying over spilt milk
boo who who
"maybe it's like jar leg;"
i would like to cut off
my perfectly healthy leg
the leg with the tattoo
& put it into
formaldahyde
& then send it on tour
ahead of me
call it;
"on tour now:
my perfectly healthy leg
in a jar"
a little public relations
& a nice new sport coat
& i could set up events
where i read poems
& my chopped off leg
would be right there
in a plexi-glass jar
on a pedestal
next to me
"so there's that"
but don't worry
i'm not planning
to cut it off anytime soon
in fact
i'm not planning
to cut it off at all
i want to keep moving
it around & letting it help
me get things accomplished
& those are only
two
of the main reasons
why i am not going
to chop off my leg
