you dug into something with a lawnmower that pitched into your head like a jagged tooth into hot spaghetti
a landmower that mows the fucked up lands of grass to cut it's beard
and fucked up and picked a tooth from the grass with a hot metal machine
smoking cigarettes cut from lusty tobacco farms where that shit is sweltering in a Virginia variety show just a puffed up donut cloud dreaming pancakes dead berry trees planting people in rows growing their hair long and cooking it like hot spaghetti
i find all kinds of wild crap by the side of the road
shells and coral sweden vs. nigeria VHS tape grilled corn with beans and cheese layered into the open husks and salsa with nectarines Funk and Wagnall's with pictures of penguins box of crayons ice cream cake audio cassette recorder silver snow and dream dust from Sudan
and then there is the matter of a mama cardinal nesting in a lilac bush
i see an orange beak poking out from a tangled wreath of
hair bark grass shoestring spaghetti dream dust from England Scottish whiskers
i see one arm rolling up the carpet and the other is brushing a taxi man's teeth. the signals are crossed and the head falters. "bring it in for a bath", someone suggests. let it settle down, it's spinning like a top and i mean, it's trimming hedges, it could take a finger from you. this dangerous thing has me all tied up, and then i notice a redheaded vulture with no moral compass gambling with your last wheezing cloud of talcum powder, hastily, and without remorse as if he meant to lose. but how did he happen upon it in the first place? you were saving that one. or I was anyway.
i was reading a story when my book melted like wax over my hands. suddenly, a deep heat seized me. i stepped out of bed and my feet sank into the carpet, now a swamp of hot fudge. the bureau yawned, it's drooping drawer, sagging wads of socks like marshmallow teeth. the radio, looking like a licorice brick, went wonky, bending songs into soup. sour sweat soaked my shirt. overhead, the ceiling got drips that dipped into the room like gobs of honey. i watched the cat cook down into an orange and white paste, until he was just a creamy smudge in the muck. my own body curled and squirmed like putty and then i turned to face the bed just in time to see the whole thing blink like a sleepy whale's giant eye.