.....

    Climactic drones
               out of a naked cellar
      a trinity of forked ideas
    twelve fingers twelve toes tall
           carrying hay bale sized
                        toilet paper rolls
           through the corridors of sealed knowledge
              its power after the vacuum


Comedy king mop, his death through my steps
                           shrimp ginned down the flaking staircase
                            the fear of mother fur
                              falling scorched through lunch
                     waking large in sex propped up in a short circuited cafeteria
                                                                     soda finance
                                                                   the cum on the snow banks
                                                                done glint through the windows of money