the death, the day, the taming of what
became...
     an atypical
Sunday's expectation
for a bowl of... rice...

   psst...

          nothing in
the comments section...
finally people decided that reading
implied: incurring
a forsaken right of
private space...
   and having read
what they read...
a piece of them
was hanging...
as if lost...
not some passive video ingestion...
mighty, mighty fine
i subsequently thought...
i'm loving the paranoia...
the internet-ascribed
internet censorship....
it's like...
  you sure McCarthy is dead?
that old Princeton,
or wherever he studied at:
lady luck, queer & fairy?
last time i checked my...
either genitals or my pronoun
usage...
   i know of two types of
gay-lords...
    the gays i can recognize...
the camp voice... the ooh-ah
approach to body language...
i can recognize those camps,
it's like... a super-power and
i'm... the only superhero
with... no super-powers,
and the best villains...
                  namely Batman...

i can recognize the gays on
the spot...
   with the words?
gay, as, ****!

the other ones though?
the Douglas Murray type?
   intellectual equals / contenders?
these...
intellectual practices of buffoonery...

a life, a death, perhaps even
a transcendental biology reality of
what constitutes
      the inorganic statement
of memory...

                       and assured, willing...
a life, a body, a death, a grave

death... always the parody...
that incubates life,
as a clown's play on an:
expecting parade.