GROTESQUE

Lavender pastures she laid to waste

I laid in like a dissembled rack of bones

steaming with cartoon thought-clouds

of naked words afloat in my foolishness.

The sky has prongs of light

that move my ribs around

like a finger bowl.

The gaps in atmospheric mantle

are filled with the faces of women,

delighting in my refined cruelty

to a block of wood,

watching the rivulets

of competing suns

carve me up.

Crucified with phalluses of brass

my blood waters the violets.

Mushroom fences hold back

the snail headed cattle.

Lion's ripped mane

and lion's claws at task

I tear the carcass

of my last remaining prey

while the pretty hyenas laugh.