Like a million ghosts watching you pee
the second time we got lost in the woods
near Dudleytown. That sunset truly fulvous
ultra-worthy of the wolfman’s aperitif.
Cucaracha mi amigo. Still later in the taqueria
when you said you were all right I knew
you were a spy. Like you lied to those Swiss
photojournalists after setting fire to their heliport.
It never ceases to shame me when
the Girl Scouts come looking for Gonzalo Corduroy
I have to tell them he died yesterday.
Dying every day only to be reborn
in the cock-ringed night. Like that hilarious bar
in the Police Academy that taught me
all about human sexuality from the standpoint
of law enforcement officials. Like rambunctious
Carey Mahoney who without a thought
for the poor spelunker who gained his fortune
in gigantic insect saddles brought low us all.
Up on the ridge this morning I flew out
on a pterodactyl named Sir Mordacious
who reminds you when you’re feeling low
when you’re standing & you just can’t go
in the morning light or the evening time
when the moon is bright or the sun is fine
just hold a breath deep & take a hand out
for to lick this magnificent spikenard from thy palm.
Like a blue sky facsimile you’re sailing
staring at Freak Booty’s badonkadonk blam.
Leave it to the Americans have a religion
fuses Nature & the Mind green gone purple
throbbing twilight above the cottage
all the seaside returning removing the orange
looming fright. I’ve called a meeting of the
great white sharks who after much opining
to the threat we pose their farmlands returned
rolling eyes to the caverns where nightmares
wait only for you. Like everyone else is going to be
happy from here on out. Sorry you didn’t get
the ticket from the ferryman but the balloon
buddy’s taking off & I’ve got all the best
Burning Angels aboard. A rope a rope is out
while the Mastodon jams much to your arousal.
Keep it down below Herr Alderman this
chocolate submarine fantasia is about to lose
its alchemy abandoning us to one another
an absurd amount of upright pornography.