her voice was velvet
sparkling gloom and
it bubbled black n white
and her eyelashes could
probly send waves rippling thru
suspended dust in sunlight
and she loved to get bent
on the piano bench
with ivory petals falling in stream
and electric drops of saliva
twitching and pouring into a pail

let’s ride a leafy kite
into the haunted space
of our universe
you can shove gerbils
all the way up my ****
near a hanging citrine sun
i’ll hoot for all the moons to hear
as they crawl up my crook
dipping their writhing heads
into my floodgate-lake;
our gallery of life.

gun ownership *****
the life out of sturdy fat
dads who want to protect
their daughters from blowing
the leaves from the yard
and into the cracked street