Friday, August 22, 2014

Strings of Valhalla

He had pictures of weaponry
and the cow jumped over the Moon
Isis drank of telepathy
and the crow denied three times
the doom killing a cop
and then yourself on the cleanup
aisle at Wal-Mart is the thing
to do glory to the hat
glory to the shoe
Face-eater paused for another
line of bath salts
I see nothing wrong
with any of these gestalts,
guest alts, the host organisms
are honey pots and decoys
infiltration meets annihilation
evolves and deploys
while the Moon flowered
into regions of stillness
my blue firey soul
leaps in patterns
configuring the illness
of endless slatterns
drink your milk of amnesia
Dr. Jackson has been sent
away, the Catcher in the Rye
tie-dyed his bug-eyed pyramid
here’s cooking at you, kid.
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