give them something to grab onto,
hold on to,
un-glue
from the paper,
tearing it down
the middle
in two, in four, in eight, sixteen, etcetera, etcetera,
and so on
and so forth,
ipso facto,
de factotum momentum
of Latinate diction is too
complicated
for people to get,
stick with the simple
Germanic diction so they can picture
what you’re talking about,
even if you, the author,
cannot
even begin to fathom what
is coming out of the end
of the pen
and expanding across,
scarring across the page,
raping the white paper
like you would a cock-tease
red-headed virgin hopped
up on red
wine and ketamine,
I mean to say,
that is to say
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox,
in other words,
for a lack of a better phrase,
W.C.W. is an asshole—
so what
does that make me?
someone who takes lines
[of coke]
from an asshole,
that’s really a disgusting mental
image,
if you take it literally,
of course,
who takes anything
literally any-
more? everything’s
supposed to be a metaphor,
nothing is
what it is,
it all just represents
something larger
than the actual thing,
like how I am a cyborg
when I use a car
as an extension of my
body when I’m
driving stop
and go down
the beltway and that big
Mormon temple looks
like motherfucking
Disneyland—why
do we erect(ion) monuments—
the Washington monument is a phallic symbol—
to mythical men
in the sky, old
white guys
with long
white beards
pointing down
and smiting us for sinning—
and by sinning I mean being human,
doing what we were created to do—
you and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals
so shouldn’t we be
a zoo exhibit too?
a creature to be
gawked at,
banging
on the glass
in the primate house
and wondering
nothing
but when the zookeeper will bring the next meal
of squashed banana sompte sanna, winnie, woonie, lani lani—
or however that shit goes,
that shit we sling
at each other, shit
with un-digested
corn in it,
stinking
sickly-sweet like high
fructose corn syrup poured
steaming
all over your body
rotting from the outside
in
and at least apes don’t eat
each other’s shit out of a cup
and then post it on the internet
for all the other apes to watch,
to trick their friends into
watching and everyone
knows
it’s disgusting
but they watch it any way
and the second you think
of something,
there’s a video of it posted
online simultaneously
elsewhere in the world
spiraling to viral
video status, so Tosh.O
can give us a web
redemption—
as if we even
deserve redemption
from such an annoying
little
prick—
the kind of prick that grew
up in an all white town like mine,
popped his Polo collar,
played lacrosse and had
a following of laxtitutes
[laxatives]
and is still deluding us
into thinking
we’re all the big
[white]
man on campus, in congress,
I’ve lost control of this
and left
the author with
nothing
to grab onto
but the roots
of the hair
I’m about to tear
out in chunks and the teeth
I’m gritting
down to the gums and I
watched
this Nat. Geo. Special
about people who
burn their own
flesh
with hot metal,
brand
themselves to set
themselves apart—
isn’t it ironic—
though not quite entirely unexpected—
that I can call them them?—
God, if there is a god, can
any of us truly be original?
are we capable?
or are we all truly
Your flock of sheep,
meek
and wary of the meat
under our wool.
