Poems from The Journey to Kailash IV
Mike Allen / April 21st, 2011 / 6 Comments »
Bacchanal
he traded his robe for a lab coat its filthy tail sweeps through oil-sheened mud flaps with back alley lurch spine hunched in huddled conspiracy hooves split bleeding a black bile wine reeled everywhere on the tainted ley lines blind husk heeds the zombie century call hopes the fix fixes all hops the walls prints trickle behind rolled up sleeves reveal the needle tracks of self consumption sore of entry throbs purple jellyfish hissing mob slithers behind hollow-eyed supermodel squad anexoria hot pop singer dirty wilted parrot plumage used-up Maenads hunting for another Orpheus no talent required any orifice will do pop’n’play in the master bedroom to the music artery beat mad-eyed waif kneels curls fragile fingers in the wool of His hips boy girl no matter liberate the libation gunshots outside the undead can’t wait their turn cultists sweating and trembling in the Superdome the worst of this generation the best of this generation bored to distraction conjure Him in the seedy glade of tire ruts beer cans broken glass hymens clumsily torn see the horns on his haggard head glint in the headlights of the pickup truck sticks into snakes for everyone curl them round your arm to raise a vein discover something new to do for true we’re all born again grown on our fathers’ thighs like a cancer
|
