When you murder a french cock
for your country in the morning, my Queen, bang
your head and scream, dizzy with love
& a wave of patriotic grief. No,
I cannot bear it. I cannot
bear my calendar today.
I can see no evil in the sunrise.
Ladybug, honey-bunny, mon coup
de foudre; this is a theatre of cruel
commitment to the looney, always
accessible and phallic, I am so gay right now.
Baby bella. My field of buttercups. & Celebrate
the scissoring pinpoints a message, the poem, wraps
it in a cardboard box, makes a dummy box.
(Measure the bars, the slope
of her back, slammed up
against the wall in the chapel.)
Watch out for families!
There will be no communication
in this carnival. No line
of antique modes
of transportation, bridging
the gap between morning
and night, the gap between
peaks, no woman watching
her ball take flight.
We are pig-skinned women.
Dizzy and gay, snipping at garlands! Snipping
at skin, skipping in a line of devil ballerinas, refusing
to see evil in a buttercup, seated upon
the big french cock like a couple of sirens
flashing big tops.
& Not even the stone face
of Vietnam, not a lollipop, not a hot plate
can send me to sea like your horned
choreography. You are truly scenic
& green, don’t show me your garland!
I am trying to see no evil.
Chestnut, hear me roar.
There are plenty of fish
written, bespectacled with Vision,
all dolled up like donuts, straw-
berrying their hearts.
There is honey in the honeypot.
Let your lemons bomb the sun.
My prize, the milky way.
Galaxies fading into grayscale,
kissing the boy goodbye.
🇫🇷🐓🔫, 👑, 🙇💞
🍄. 🌼🌼🌼. &🎉
✂📌📩, 📝, 📦📦.
(📊, 📈📉, 💒.) 🚸!
💞🌷🌿✂🌿 ! 🏈✂.
👯🚤, &🌿🌿🌿🌿 !