god is a foot

trancendental titties flopped eye-dot-eye / starcrossed missiles of cosmic caravans led by hermaphrodites on angels wings

the hippie chick is reading poetry naked again
and avoiding eye contact

the black guy poet goes on stage to remind us that he is black, guy, and poet in that order
at least he'll spice it up with some watersports

the band goes on
and on
like fred's beard tethered to every board in the house

maybe he'll take the whole thing with like frank lloyd wright

i bombed a set at burkhart's the other night, which was good because I've been getting cocky lately
and self-centered
that was gonna be the whole point but
i sold myself out
shrugged myself to death

leonard cohen can't wait to die
and start rolling around in his grave

face up
he'll just get a mouth fulla piss though, like oz
of the sun
areola borealis

sometimes all the world needs is a big fat cock