Tuesday, January 11, 2011


the same city on the same day—Carl Sagan

after coitus a tentacled lovecraft that wriggles pink
wild panicked in the retreat it is sea purple that cannot speak
he disengages inked blue from his girlfriend
carries her to the red bathroom and turns her inside out
hangs her on the violet girlfriend armature to drain where

he watches the dirty stuff all disassembled start to live
start to cluster and squeal with multiple heads
vast echoes down the basin the waste the hollow halls
that fill with smoke and

in these spaces Pulpo comes to himself
in the wash in the froth
laughing to the elbows
he washes her out with warm water whereupon

careful to avoid oily soaps that could damage
her delicate tissue
he looks at her there in the basin rolled
inside out oh oh Pulpo what of you
now that your batgirl is

]inside out like Ed Gein like blue soldiers at Shuffling Lances
to hang those interiors high and right and not to slide[

down the lift shafts Pulpo heads in hand bellow
the dropping lift frets mostly
for how not the pus octo on the crash the most

famous successful male sex toy in the world
but what good is that wriggled itself to death
there in the blood
Y chromosome basin

somewhere overt the rainboat?

(they say eight legs walking over your eyes will cure it)

Pulpo, it ain't just about the slamming impact on the wharf
even now it is more than that, Pulpo

)you know Love best when you find it afterwards
just about twitching in starlight floating away(



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