25 January 2006

toilet door poetry

these dirt words written like burnt static

this feline closure of secretion; a rhythmic stirring. NOW OPEN!
a creaking mention of all the corporate smirks and stations. FRESH!

she's tackling the real meanings of language. SALE!
a feral sound; the splash of bipolar recognition. SALE ON NOW!

here your fabled triple bottom lines weeping into the viability of sex.
recorded in plasma screen units - of excreta. PAY NOTHING FOR SIX MONTHS!

they said in unison:
jesus was never a backdoor liability;
a free-radical solution.
an elementary ablution;
a diametric sedition.

yet here a pool of battered cloth at my feet;
a question on his lips

an answer at my loins;
a new door to contemplate


antipoet-allanboyd JAN06

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