One Hundred Thirtieth Entry

Hi there. Taking a few days off from New York in D.C. It's been pretty fun here and the weather is great. Going to hang out with one of my bestest friends, poet Danielle Deulen, a CSF alum like myself. We're going to the Hirshhorn Gallery (sp?) and we both haven't gotten enough sleep. Should be fun.

Here's my poem:

OOH LIGHTNING BUGS

The insects got into the chemicals-
cannibalized by lightning bugs exploding
onto my wallpaper and then sucked
into a singularity-straws are good
for suction-I burnt my hands on that surface-
here's my recollection-a sudden imbecilic
invasion of vapours and there goes our city,
and after we bent ourselves out of shape
in an effort to support it-three jobs, no more
sitcoms. The science is only skin deep.

I never know where to finish when you say it's over-
should I complete the last task of tipping
the garage on its corner so all the dirt falls out,
my safari has been a cover-up: zebra,
wild boars, lemurs with their shiny frightening eyes-
my world ended; you saw it happen while rewinding
the tape. Guess this balcony is more accessible
than I thought but it's time for the terrible ghost-chant;
the mask becomes the primitive god and the dancer
acquiesces his nature to nature. The right thing
to do would be to ask Shuma-Gorath how he
perceives the situation.