part 2 of A POEM THAT SWELLS UP

I’m serious, I’m going to Paris.
I’m serious, I’m going to drain the brains of other cultures.
Seriously trying to donate a deer tick.
Guess I ask these beans?
My boyfriend is delicious.
My boyfriend whom I am in the page.
A message from thermal clarinets:
Newborn babies were realy something.
Desire for a minute ago
I watched a jar of fenugreek in the pee
Up up and BEAUTY
my wool over the miso in his countenance
I watched two episodes of beng a semicolon
I watched a black rayon kneelength pencil skirt, deep hopelessness
I’m serious, I’m going to the tomatoes to have poetry
in a wound incarnadine slightly musky and animalic
Big old honking vacuums of hair
in a secondlanguage environment
The worst song in my dreams five minutes ago
Wool over jammed mouths – loudish
Moaning a little trying to stay in the cisterns
Rubbing velvet princes
And sighing like a baboon in a sham farce
As a kind of vegan rabbi I can buy baby artichokes in my poems
Giant eel birds stand on the eardrum
Tonight’s bedroom and the suffering of animals
And humans concoct the unexplainable.
This loom of the hero is a feathery feeling
I watched the cats stuck to the curry.
They were supposed to stop yowling.
I watched two episodes of each penis
and both snails were busily ingesting this
Shocking pink suit, red thing, I am out

Purity? Wholeness? Wait.

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