thunderstorms
reported missing
by some
verbose
orphan
I write to the church about the orphanage and to the orphanage about the church. I write that football is the end of the world and that I owe my death to someone. she’s in the tub getting sick on her brother’s back and thanking god for sign language. our boy has an illness that lets him tame, elsewhere, ants. surprise for me a crow. disappoint.
was he wanted a dog and was told to go through mom
(it: torn from nothingness to live in this world)
/ attraction
the voided
bird
the fly
has a bed
and cat
was declawed
by snow
why, brothers, are we so angry? I’m just out of image rehab. tell mom they couldn’t get the knob, so to speak, back on the oven. I know a kid of mine won’t walk the impossible dog. I know it deep down. arsonist first, birdwatcher second. drone to stork and stork to mermaid. I feel your pain.
satan is a dinosaur. existence an earliness for which I’m never quite prepared.
/ having been to volcano and back, dog
has this look
~~~~
also, last night, I toasted my brothers:
[toothbrush & cigarette]
games like tea and fake
blood test
/ doll with a pill in a painted-on shoe
~
and, this old thing:
[the ghost of jim jarmusch]
a thought
a ballerina
might have
of smoking
~
and 20% off all print books on Lulu with coupon code of YEAREND20
mine, here: http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/acolyteroad
/ those who’ve boiled mouthwash in a baby’s bottle
/ my ice-fishing father’s crystal ball
/ the leaf
that prays
for hand
the ball is not red. now stare
at the ball
that isn’t
(my half of the seeing eye dog
for yours
of sickbed)
oh,
our abuser’s futuristic nudes…
/ the angels
want
their dead
kingsoftrain 