Wednesday 11/26/2008 12:52:00 AM

In the square. At the corner of the circle. The numbers agree with the flesh. Collapsing tangents send roses to unbroken atoms. The explosion was small, but I heard it from far away. Limbs on a conveyor belt falling into people.

In the angles. The sour grimace of geometry. Everything. Everyone is an equation. A chess games of numbers to determine the victor and the casualties. Legs over ass divided by penis. There's the formula. To determine need.

Fist in his pants. The balloon off to heaven. By the slip of the string. Gravity the punchline. In a series of impossible and offensive stories.

The pig. Negotiating with the wolf. Bacon is still bacon. brick is still brick.

You can't blow my house down.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.