TRASH AMERICAN STYLE #2
for Phil Cordelli and Brandon Shimoda



I praise the mud
Is in you both
When the hand drops down
On the string
Of my
What you I am forcing
To draw
Lash of innard
If you were to pull
Wrap your hand in foil
Hold over the flame
Steve was there
Told us about it
Shirt covered in shit
From wiping ass and ejaculating
Flying it
From antennae
I was on the roof
I watched you both
Wanted to fucking die
For fucking your tits
That was all you'd let me
Jesus was presiding
Every book crooked
Turkey
Greek man had me by the neck
Knuckle
Storms over brick chimney
I was learning to write
Geoffrey was teaching
To read soft
Giraffe with red ribbon
Sniffed the black cushion
Then gleaned truth
From spread eagle
I would never kiss zits
Fucked up in a silo
One of the sisters died of an aneurysm
I could barely speak on the drive home
I thought of The Cube
Like we crossed a river
Didn't
He told us so many things
I wanted to be with both of you
Listening to Swiss innovators
Thinking also of Cher
Feathers
Wanted to rip the red bulb
Out of the wall
But the pussy was short
I blew out the back
And ate potatoes with Crooked Face  ¶ 2:33 AM