Licking stamps that abuse my fingerprint,
I surrender to “gone.”
It’s empty to live without siblings
the take-the-fun-out-of-writing workshop.
swells in the corners of desire
to overthrow my hands.
Hair growing on my chest
proves women are descended from apes,
and hold tea time as a form of conspiracy.
An afternoon of diplomatic moments
as the prettiest girl
sips hot poison in a rocking chair.
Her severe haircut announces a modern philosophy-
an electric wok.
She’s writing a movie that ends as she talks;
it cannot roll in the flock.
oxygen milking the heart of orange flame,
the holes exppsed in her spleen;
she is World Trade Center rippling against a lower sky.
everyone hates the Jews and their literature.
The tears are too proud to drop-
I will not stop,
I will not stop.