Sonnet

Okay, I'm not fucking no drunk poets
and their paradisiacal events.
The way we like to pretend about Ampo
"Our" "dead Mexican lives" "caress" "it"

I am made weary from Passion, a pop-up book.
A gay bar is so Hobbes Leviathan
I take a can of Lew Welch Raid
For my own mind, which is hymnal and mellifluous

It is a great heartstrain to watch poem corpses float
Douching grammatically is beautiful.
Why do you bother seeing nature as puncutation and basis?
You're clearly a douche that's been round the block!

I have a terrible guilt about my Seth Abramson quilt
Which I bought at IKEA, and where I fuck the dysfunctional