Thank Ye God You Only Inhabit Yourself

or: Room of wealthy bonobos

America’s sons are jerking off they
crinkle their faces like ground beef
at one little wrinkle in someone’s ass,
maybe a woman nursed by her tortilla
slinging maid whose spirit once sang
Negro spirituals, maybe a man poor him
who went broke at twenty-one as all
alleged alcoholics do. America’s sons
are face to screwed face with mountains
leapfrogging mountains their brains
unhinged each thought string near its theory,
but if so, it is thought so only partly
and cauterised like kids getting wearier.

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~ by Jeremy on May 22, 2012.

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