Sunday, December 17, 2006
i saw mommy kissing santa claus
underneath the mistletoe last night,
and i guess that freud was right,
because why else would i want to shoot on sight
that fat bastard in his suit of red and white?
you're welcome! and another little tidbit:
that remus of the underworld
in his jockstrap. thus the remains of
a poppy-seeded muffin, topless.
a kind of seismic undertow. a lost
clause, a wrongheaded spark of
common termagent: cratch, slump, bitch.
and she was its living center, it cracked and mouldless about her--
there was no other way
to take it but on the inside,
pinked, withered, not stale but ill,
without even the sop of a wandering
dock, a port of call, sans taste, sans everything--
te negitor domino.
Posted by sra at 9:18 PM