Put In The Dead Boy. He’s a F* Ringer


He was referred to as a mental defect
Since his smile hung like a retired boxer’s gloves,
Draped over a drainpipe…

(Hear the trickle
Of knuckle walking

He spoke to himself

Answering promises
With gibberish.

(On harvest days,
Soy shrieks for the trickle,

Men named Heinrich
Raise their scythes
And decapitate

Summer beach tunes
& bikini lines
& trouser snakes)

He licked the cat,
Swallowed the hairball
And was found blue
As America.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s