Written by Ike Eisenhower on December 22, 2012
Arranged by Jayinee Basu on December 24, 2012
Published in Issue 004

(Show asshole)

: What?

: You, cut off, hadn't even half-brothers!

(A barge gate, a fence rind)

: You longed and shorted.

(The wrinkles closed like blessed sutures)

: The world is not long.

: For politeness, a terminal of cane.

: His tear in your jerk. His plastic cane lodged in your doorjamb.

: I told you never to come round here again.

(Remiss in excess)

: Domesticated elision we faked and folded.

: Go there?

: Go here and you baked in hairtearing efflorescence!

: I nutmegged a halfablock of vegetating echoes.

(Blonde comes over the ridge wiggling the black off the bark)

: You ready brother, ready?

: You beat the concerto right out.

: Of? Brother! You sister, huh?

: Hear me.

: You hear me.

(Broken speaker anonymous leaking gutter)

: Whiteness—not alone.

(Hung high, nailed dark wooden Indian waves)

: Hello!

: Turn Jimmy back on.

: Lean.

: I'll rent you, mother dagger.

(Daughter pun)

: Watts linkage leaking rods on corn.

: Fangs?

(Eyes held at half-mast to witness)

To waste pissed from the swing and totaled the street. Go hard of hearing. They list no further rings.


(Worsted wool, bested friar)

: A gallery full of running ripe dremels and some bitch in a wheelbarrow.

: Calculating averages, a gullible suspension dispels with harmonics.

: I mean pockets.

: A soul note unfolding.

(His hot cum hydrolastic blowout)

Strummed shock tower, a spun bearing a grease stall.

: You wanted you.

: Thought strike a match.

: Match?

: Match.

(Match and turn the hose on)

: Your adding machine...

: Go home and retool.

At the dairy fields of beaker pulp a broken asshole foraging for.