i came across
an unknown tribe
in a forest of steel
and cinder blocks

they drank parsnip soup
from police helmets
raised chickens
and purple hollyhocks

they taught me that
the cockroach emits
a piercing scream
and when Ghenhis Khan’s
head appears
not to lose my self esteem

together
we split apart
the vacuum cleaner bag
reaped the dust
for our tortilla flour
and suppressed the urge
to gag

but those odd souls
they’re gone for good
spineless yes-men
now roam the Earth
pumping blood
into the Linzer torte
hawking neck cheese
and afterbirth

they argue
about the walrus
how his horn’s not
bony after all

but instead encased
in leathery skin
like a salami
or a football

they snap it off
watch and wait
soft liver spills
into their boots

rotten pears appear
and then burst open
inside their birthday suits

their senators
and corporate fish
have all but stopped evolving
they secrete universal acid
no bottle can hold it
and the earth
is slowly dissolving

we spent the
weekend
taser-gunning
the cows

Billy rigged up
a bathtub
in the pasture
where we heated
the water to a boil
and gently
placed them in

their soft smiles
thanked us
and a foamy grey film
bled out as they
sunk below
the surface

Billy retched
and I told him
to be calm
it’s just
the final essence of
their kindness rising
I said
their inner milkiness

then a ruby-throat
came to draw in
the nectar from a
cluster of bee balm flowers
immortalized in mid-air
and still more cows
wandered forward

in their smoky flatulence
we found
alphas and deltas
that we arranged
into formulas
on a tarnished
silver plate

and as the campfire embers
glowed deep red and
our sleeping sacks
beckoned to us
we drank down the
final gulps of
hot miner’s tea

and Billy pronounced it
“more of the stuff
that made Rome great”

a silverfish once
crawled
into the side
of my mouth
when I was asleep

the eggs she laid there
glistening
and plentiful

her children filled
my body cavities
invaded organs
turned them
to black tar
and hot maroon
liquid

and still I
move forward
zombie-like

not caring

oh Lord,
why be there jelly between our toes
so sebaceous and scaly?
why these flakes that
pour from our scalps
enough to bake a dinner roll with?

why can we not be constructed
from gleaming steel and
chrome?
enamel paint on the
soles of our feet
and if we are so perfect
made in thine image
why
these
middle age
gases
like
moldy
potatoes
rising from the sheets?

not to mention the
pasty tartar
between our teeth
white manure?

Believe me
I’ve tried hard not to ask
these questions
But the skull meat
(with its pleasing and nutty aroma)
always seems to win out

she
came into
my bedroom
holding
a fishhook
and a plastic glove
and
in her
calmest voice
explained that
yes
it would
have to
come out
that
mass of
shrimp
pulled
from deep within
my ear
******
left me
barren
and a little
giddy

but
there are times
when i still
feel
it pulsing
blue veins
tail flapping
scent of
algae
salt

my back
sprouts a fin
and the wound
heals

sometimes the flesh
assumes
a yearning
to sprout out
in directions
untested

i’ve seen my own chin
do this
on occasions
gone meristematic
elongate like a
Hungarian salami

pull at it a bit too fast
and risk snapping it off
like a *** of Silly Putty
better yet
slice it
into poker chips
all rubberoid
like the 10th grade fetal pig
impregnated in polymer
enjoy its silky layers
have respect for this power
don’t **** it
with the dissecting needle
or epilate it with hot wax

it will only grow back

he was just that
a fetal pig
but not the kind you dissected
in high school biology

he was lazy of course
and how he loved his corn

in his darker moments
his snout....it would smolder
the professors postulated that
he must be off-gasing
but the more cynical ones
they would only mutter
“i bet he’s just doing that on purpose”

now the men in suits they were just
plain jealous

they’d posture and scheme
all the better
to be the one who’d get to
"hunker down" with him
(maybe mess with his *****)

so now they’re all reading dictionaries
and memorizing quadratic equations
never mind the smell

but the pig....he’s happy
just making puddings
and trying not to think

about how little time is left