My chocolate is cerebral beef
Bled out on the marbled planetoid surface
The interior of the death head's skull
Photographs of the landscape include
Inarticulate phosphorescent beastliness
Pinpoint radiology of cancerous joy
I read the entrails of old machine parts
Rusting by the side of the Interstate
Parts machined from organic resources
Culled from loose-leaf minutiae
Jargon of encyclopedic texts
Where I slumber amidst illegally parked halos
Celestially handicapped zones
My workforce furred of heart and rabbit-eared
The mantra of the new order being:
I put ego into the churn from which develops
Considerable advances in plate tectonics
why don't we
recall the poignancy of wartime
perished along the dust of the road
serpentine prey of molecular memory
somebody gasped a last breath
chewing an ice cream
grenade
literature antiquated algebraic
electron at the tip of the bayonet
pretty passing
saints hung from steaming toadstools
one lost peon draped with a flag died the day
after tomorrow
he fell off a barstool
toasting a friend
met his maker in throes
of carousing
just off Turk and Jones
while she
homing in submariner Mom
Sapphic
Cleopatric
or otherwise infamous
reducing the news of the fall of the sun in the sky
to
tears and voices indelibly inaudible through voids
of omniscient absence
names
dates
prophesies
laughter of a floater underwater
see if it don't
hail on saints and fools
fireflies bent on
vengeance
Jay Passer's work has appeared in print and online for 24 years. Themes of anarchy, delirium, antiestablishment ethos and bawdy street survival all cast lots in the spectrum of his vision. A new chapbook, At the End of the Street, from Corrupt Press, is due out in late 2012, while Only Human By Definition, his most recent collection, is currently available from Crisis Chronicles Press.
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