There's something chewy
about text which is hyper.
Tell me, princess,
what is your favorite dish
which has been delivered
from the Chinese?
History hasn't been kind
to my fetish for crab-rangoons.
Ranch-Dressing is
sitting all over my blankets,
waiting for me to come home
so that I may feed it.
The cattle in the bathroom
are hissing at the shower,
for they don't know, yet,
what kind of power
hides inside the clock-tower.
Horror pervades every chamber
of this backwater house,
as the Listerine insists
on kicking me out.
Words?
The bread is baked.
Words?
Delicate, now,
we don't want the whole galaxy
to fall on the floor and break.
YOU ARE READING
Incoherent Poetry
PoetryPoetry that serves to clash tonally and ideally with the objective that a new tone, genre, or coherency (some semblance of sense at all) can be made from throwing different ideas together in a bizarre gathering of words.
