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Blight, bone up, get a cool flat by the gram
up in Copenhagen. More dodgy scams.
More pot-rash shortbread. We’ll have a webcam:
“Gillian Goblyn’s and Maxy Mayhem’s
Jack Off Jill” (you can be Jill) It’s like hot
potato but with more body fluids.
Faith the cane jar across your ass. A dot
of blood on my tip. Showing your rosebud’s
godsmack to the world. It’s in our blood, our
mainer to a vein leading to centers
in our head. Su, su, su, sugar sweet, sour
taste and devour. On our rooftop, slurs
of luzz, it’s all on film as the magpies
gossip in eaves, in elms, in rushing skies.