I
Aspiring to reach the solar rabbit hole eclipse
--climbing up the well,
the photon test tube
sodden and crusted on the outside
by angsty
adults
snorting obsession
through The Manhattan Project straw.
The pirate boy wanted to be named
Skip--so determined Alice named him,
Skippy, conqueror of blueberry mucus
--he reminded her of sidewalks
she found far in the misty woods
--no one walked
the unexpected like him.
Each placement of a pore: a bat cave
a depressed skull
a hollow exploit
a lame *** joke
a mildew plop
Almost certainly this cadaver matryoshka doll
would be human by the time
the two runaways
were born again Hallelujah! The dish breaker is crowning again
back to the galleons, rotting awkward candles.
"Leave what is human in
inhumane
places." the well speaks.
Skippy tears the corners of his lips
to his ears. Alice turns her temple to the sharpest part
of the monumental
test tube
and cracks her childhood back to the bottom
--back to Euphoria. light poles open
up faces and throw their lights to the ground.
Both of the thrift store
lovers continue to climb--ripping off purchases
to the beggar's tin cup.
II
Severed hearts beat without metaphor
as the empty vessels that hold them.
Spines sing of freedom like centipedes
facing fan blades. Pirate boys mock the smoker's language
of mutiny.
Devalued skin,
dirty armor
casted,
lowered,
teased, by the cadence
of tumbling blood. Marking territories other brother's can smell
Obediently, we see what
gods are doing to them. They're paying
for drawing the different suits of God
on the cave wall. Hit jobs--vacuum spoils,
sucker punch postage stamps
--revenge from a peaceful creator
forcing the two to climb/climb/climb
back to a speck
where dandelions grow
from the revolution fetus and graphite,
& tongues, & lips, & nerves, & veins &
wolf spiders pour down/red matter clusterfucks.