as the sky fell I dropped a Name
and you heard it hit the ground
and break, we could never use it
again. this is why we can’t have nice
things, like society. thanks mum.
you’re not even my real mum and/or
dad and yet here I am sopping the
yolk with the brad. place the plastic
death-lumps on the mantle-piece,
heat the resistant resistance in a
spoon. don’t hate category because
individual, obvious. revelation is
such a fucking tease. I stuck your
fingers in my mouth that did taste
of existence, but the enemy skulks
the landscape, a model mammal,
protrusions on protrusions, sticks
each part of his corpus into every dead
saint, cups his [sic] hands around his
scopers. he calls them the gropers.
the puss begins to form and we try
to hug the blister. contusion reigns. men
grow daughters out of their testicles like
enormous breasts and hold them
under their arms for the nation to
suckle. think of flowers think of a
flowering think of the slaughterfield.
a new politics of embodiment.