....
Fortissimo romance, blistered to the max. Rather be ghoulishthan girlish, or take salts and calm the fever, sitz baths drown outthe whinnying. The subject of pathos or bathos or Cheerios. The Spanishsoap opera interrupted by an ad for peenay sol and a tree burst throughthe roof. Stole the show. Narrative is all fun and games until someoneloses a roof. Come-uppance is no coin, a warning no prism. And doestaking too long to smooth the chenille fall between the cracks of lustand sloth. It's not in grace but in a burning house that we say there isa god. The creepy guy sold me cinnamon gum, saying so you like Big Red.
....
He cried: "It was not I, it was my brother," but say what hewould, they cut off his head.
Meanwhile brothers drinking lattes. Meanwhile the axe dullsand thoughts hang by a thread. Froth to blame, blood to father-ing wuthering. All manner of amnesias trying to recognize my own neckfrom that angle. Proving fables can be cerebral. Take heed, he started itbut I got in heck. A flustered justice, fresh ground hot flash. Necklace ofcoffee beads in the bottom of a wax cup. Licking chops. Eyes, beads, lustcollecting dust. See what he would, chopping sucks. The evil brotheralways remembers to send a card on mother's day. "Not I," said the lit-tle red hand.
....
Immediately the physician fell on the ground, and now hehimself was in the hands of Death.
Them requisitioned apples. Fell before he got a chance to finda lover worthy of the plums in the icebox note. A moan biggerthan a bruise. Bus drivers make the worst passengers. "Cold hands,warm heart," said Death. Good times, bad liver. Grapes in the crisper donot adequate his teeth among stones. Eye them roll, tiny decapitations.Finally a moment to acknowledge the glassiness of the word tincture.Praying for a referral. Someone with teeth to say: without, incurringdreams. Within his bending sickles compasse come sorry chips andleaks.
....
