My Unicorn

MY UNICORN


My unicorn
of whatthefuck metaphysics

is warm to the touch.

*

Stop picking on
my unicorn.

He has it hard enough
sustaining the universe

through physics

(or Physicks, as my unicorn
prefers to call it)

*

My unicorn
is well-aware
of the self-referentiality

issues. He is also

concerned about the
pissed-off gods causing blood

to turn green problem.

This is a more pressing concern

right now.



Not you

or your snarkiness,

your revenge-fucks

up art's tight ass.















MY LIFE NEAR SWAMP



Comes slender into me,
it's being or absence.

Shut up.

Comes to means a meadow like television.

Comes from flowers
that exploit birds terribly.


Das Kapital

even in the garden.

*

Oh bird.

Milk that word for beautiful

*

Things birds say:


To wit to wit to wit.

Do you do you do you?


*


Do you feel ranunculus attractions?

Flowers that take their names from frogs,

poets that take their poetry from frogs

who take their philosophy

from other frogs,

we should just face it,

the world is complicated and adventuresome...


*

Fortune cookie of nature
I break you in two carefully

(hoping for golden rod).


*


I arose from the Lust,

where the swamp marshes

and the marsh swamps

and something slimy

nevertheless gleams

and says

Shine On.



*


You has rooted me.

Kill him a rose, somebody drunk says.

Meaning cut it.


so i do.


i use my teeth

against the gravity

of the bloom.