This is a boiling indifference,
stretched out and buried
amongst the few strawberries
in your possession.
Usually, we went up a singular party
screaming through fences
and ashing into sewers of our own
making.
I piss zoos upon the portico
and have little time
for the academy and finally
what dwells illegitimately
is your breath
pining
for grandma.
ON YOUR LIPS TOO
I have been ejected from these flowery substances.
The homoeroticism is no longer in the sheets
but in between the waves
and under sunlight.
There are too many around with tattoos
of scorpions and not enough
with purple orchids wrapping themselves
around accurate reprints
of Klimpt.
There is one on your side,
burning in hundred degree water
without melting
the paint.
Paint on your lips too,
almost like a fruit
you are too frightened
to buy.
Eye contact is arrows in a time that screams war.
I am concerned my operations will shut down
due to harsh times.
Break the triangle, scratch, yawn, sleep,
but sleep well this time-
no dreams of death choruses
playing the recorder outside
your cultured
window.
You deserve at least the aforementioned,
I am eating properly again
and give credit
to your entry.
THEATRE
This brilliant singing is not for me
but it seems your fence
has been ruined
so thanks.
ETHICS
My primary fault is that I can fall "in love" with a piece of two by four if it is witnessed under the proper lighting and at the proper angle. Have indeed been sewn up and pawed by the trio of kittens I am no longer maintaining an interest in the ethics of keeping the bridge intact. What business of it of yours the atmosphere in which I float? None of course, so take your bottle and your sheep, weep for all I am concerned. What, this? This is a pink slip crucified to your silly doorway.
ON THE L TRAIN
Seeing as these blisters are only accessible by freight,
it is recommended you bring the cigarettes.
All of my friends have gathered, we are nonsense
being screamed on the L train getting off
at the Smithsonian.
My father is enamored with rocks and I,
with chili and your pearl white
flats.
I've always considered myself a simple murder,
compact and easily placed in rivers.
I will give you the permission that is required
to sing and burn on a local
but grand scale.
Please, do not undo the safety belt.
Stay and talk, share
your tongue.
Joseph Goosey is sick and refuses to visit the clinic. He has one chapbook available via Poptritus Press and one forthcoming via Shadow Archer Press. He thanks you for reading.
