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Captain America's Rabbit Hat

Convex mourning in the shire of lard
epitomes scratched in a carton of sticks
potatoes--fried; hippocampus, cerebellum
from your couch to your car to Micky-Dee's
cooked up hot and fresh to slather
all your fallacious hunger and woes
A buck, three-fourths thimble crude
the sky screams as her skin is ruptured
first Australia, now suburbia
who herself, covered in look-alike boils
would like to thank good Mr. Ford
for sticking it 'til the sun won't shine
-and then-
The cold red mud of New Orleans
tidbits of flesh like grout betwixt cobblestones
open the wine-sinks and open the brothels
let the boys hump while their city is governed by rats
-these are the words of millennial-beat-
Without kin, no man can judge himself kindly.

Please critique--rate as is, but offer suggestions.

9 Jun 06

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