#squash
Oh won't you butter my squash?
Clean my seeds
Like the sins of my past
The baked passion inside
The oven racks
Racks
Racks
Stack the inner radiance
And peal me
The smooth orange paste
Will feel really zesty
Stay here on my cutting board
Send knives of kisses
Be merciless inside the sink
Blinking boiling stink
And watch as I eat your intestines
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
Seven flies I’ve killed this dawn
The eighth I haven’t got
Three above the candle, hot
In clap of hands I caught
Then one upon the window screen
Squashed beneath my palm
At last I found the swatter and
Struck three by bone of dog
But still the eighth remains a threat
To my sleeping son
But ** Lands upon my page
And in death mars the paper red
Only then’s revealed a ninth
Whose buzz revives the fight
Now dead, a tenth flies by my head
As I write this in my bed
Will there ever be an end?
(I thereafter learned to **** them at night
As they sleep with a flashlight
To find morning respite)
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 9:26 PM UTC