Thursday, August 19, 2010


tiny pink spiders crawl thick green blades
headpiece stacked and laced
with white straw in the afterworld
are they babies are they about to die

I itch all day stopsign
buried up to its metal neck
in the corner of a high lawn
the one word staring tiny pink spiders
crawl from death to growth
their tiny noticing not much difference

scaffoldings of digital multi-fuck
and chihuahua paw irritates the mustache
the upper lip doesn't care about the lower lip
little legs going nowhere for everywhere
headpiece knuckled and bubbled
scissors invisible between limbs

if the right hand doesn't care about the left hand
the eyes behind fingernails will watch
tiny pink spiders think big
thoughts of devouring in the belly
of their hour on faint legs I
welcome them onto my belly hairs

let poison bite fiber and follicle
never reaching flesh flowers
have black hearts near around us
yellow petals long in the air
interrupt telephone wires all
erupt from their mother's egg back
and the earth has a magnet heart

calling headpiece down to rot in its rest

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