A HOLIDAY IN PURGATORY


you know it at least that well

the synergy and the worm of conversation

all flotsam is property in the swearinghouse . . .

but this isn't Jesus camp

meanwhile all the professor half-wits secretly hold hands

a tiny pyramid hums on the seminar table

disease running out like a pile of blue diamonds

I recall standing to towering position in my new secular robe

it wasn't rain however

someone was pissing off of the roof again

time to get back into the restaurant business

we mean a mob of gangster killdeer, each with a wing in a tiny
000arm sling

we mean a cigar and a Tommy gun in your Christmas stocking

we mean Devastation Peninsula

the hand-holding around a sinking casket

a woman moaning because she can't give birth to her egg

and the children make these cradles of molestation

Rhodesian Man strolls down the sidewalk listening to the
000Black Eyed Peas

light coming in through the sanctuary clerestory

I propose we schedule our next enlightenment

don't act so goddamned superior

You just don't know how it feels