Tuesday Morning

A sad violin underwater
ten thousand slugs on a cold sidewalk
Northern Californian earthquake
pigeon night
decay of angry blue tarps
my brain makes sense of nothing
it is a tar filter
sucked through with nicotine smoke
terrible freeways
and pimps in pointed Gucci shoes.

Pass the butter
but, gone is the knife
hidden in her purse
waiting to spread blood
across the burnt toast of
battered feuds
and mechanical relationships
rusting in rain water

I am the fax machine
the timber dawn is burning
time clock hat
I wear you
for 40 hours a week
and still my
batting average
increases
little.

Nothing but the whole entire world
between us
I bruise easily
Facebook flagellation
I see the status changing
faster then dirty underwear
quicker then a hiccup
titanium bottle rocket
steel salamanders
slippery vacancy
my baby ain't no dim bulb
she lights up the entire
universe.

Cat scratch fever
William Grant Stills
my oboe is a hobo
a handkerchief of effeminate snot
fish tank
fog horn
saber tooth office supplies
hang me on a wall
without arms or legs
and call me
Art.