Monday, February 4, 2008

BLATANTLY “METAPHORIC” POEM NUMBER TWO

YOU ARE AN UGLY GARDEN

AND I WILL SET UP A SPIDERWEBBED FOLDING CHAIR ON
WHATEVER YOU GROW AND SIT THERE AND PISS ON MY THIGHS

AND LET THE PISS INTO THE GARDEN
AND KILL ALL LIFE—

I WILL ALSO KILL YOU WITH MY TEETH
AND GO AS LOW AS THE GROUND ALLOWS.
YOU ARE AN UGLY GARDEN YOU FUCKING UGLY GARDEN.

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