Thursday, May 21, 2015

Quasimodo Go-Go

The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Walks among these words
A parabola of despair
Languishes in Euclid, warm
And tense like a truth
Or bar of soap. And here I am
Humming a song of thread
To get it out of my head
I like to hang from a limb
Like an apple and rub
The dribble of juice
From my chin. Properties
Of meaning are tangible
To the mind that hatches
Out of an egg of thought
Think of it, think of an egg
And feel it as I do, round
And white and smooth
In the hand. Detail
Your life in the greenhouse
Tell me what your eyes see
On the inside of your head
Life is often sticky that way
This is why I smell like an erection
Of syntax, a fistful of consonants
And vowels walking in the bones
Of a hunchback. Swinging
Back and forth on a giant bell
Howling my love to the angels

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