Wednesday, January 07, 2004

Hell Garden

Hell Garden
says the pen in my hand.

How do you say
        Don't look
without looking?

How do you crave
        The nasty side
when you're sober & caring?

How do you devise
        A plan
and then get a tatoo?

I don't semi-hate
        Cats
or equestrians.

I don't suck suspense
        From its firm,
glistening teeth.

I don't come into your
secrets
and condescend
them like Advil into cement.

I'm a sober & pale
oasis
or pale, old house.

& none of my sentences
brandish
rain like windows.

I come out of a gust
of detox & nachos
not out of intestines
& tentacles.

I will hold you for hours
& you
will not get in.

& I will think
of performing surgery
& going mad trying to bowl.

I'm sentimental or your corpse.
I'm sober of mu

&/or battering the world
without a pulse.

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