Life is a mega-deal
XVI
Lapsed into steam and fell against the bathroom wall
my mind’s eye bleeding gay semen
the suspect angles of light on the sink
and the mirror
and the reflections again
of the perspired neck and sternum
wet dew of mushroom and chicken pluck of youth
Wilkes Booth suicide
racing in front of cars on the highway
passing parks settled into dusk beneath halogen lamps
children cursing loudly with rhythm
“fire that bitch
rehire that bitch
fire that bitch
rehire that bitch”
into the streets with pie
again
into the streets with pie
into the streets with cake and death
and the brewing stench of methamphetamine
the crunch of fallen leaves
XVIII
Overeager mouths pleasing themselves
came along in the grips of binging
Old friends throwing furniture
stacking it in sexual poses
I remember from last night
the paths of satellites
i glimpsed
their blinking traces across a near moonless sky
and just now the juxtaposition of two shoes
their holes gaping like wounds, or mouths,
vaginas even,
reflected in black embossed surfaces with the sunlight
chiaroscuroing the lines and sheening strips of leather
turns mind’s seconds imperceptible cohesions of thought:
the empty vase on my shelf waiting for its flower
my stuffed animal collection
the inkless typewriter
the bag of trash
the open book
my body and me
my socks and my feet
I wander around inside of it all lit up
bent into shape along my outlines and emitting waves
tense with excited anxiety over all of the jackets and shirts
i will never wear,
or have worn and forgotten.
XXXV
chocolate and tea stained pants
tuat over my knee
and i am wondering about my wisdom teeth
the crescent moon surrounded by clouds in the sky
my head itchy
this night ticking off into prohibitions on soda and guns
and i am thinking of my bleeding gums
XLIV
my visions are lastnight’s popcorns
XLV (excerpt)
old dogs die of cancer
malignant flat screened
panoptic cells
the young are put down
after diabetic comas
to cota returns of absurd peace prospects
XLV (excerpt)
how many will starve in the future
while we debate immortal robot sex?
Chris Drew is ephemeral. He creates, works, and lives in Kirksville, Missouri, USA. proliferate-propagate.tumblr.com.
