Cut all cables.
Send anonymous authors of erotic novels
to originate assassinations from the roof.
Have and hang by having.
Photograph a climate
not passionate but paranoid.
Take me home. I’m cured meat.
Forgive my injured ankle.
Apply vibrating nipple clamps
then copyright every word.
Eat my portrait.
Haven’t you read Simic? The world doesn’t end.
What does Simic know? He’s just a poet.
“What does Simic know? He’s just a poet.”
-hahahahahahah