Saturday, February 2, 2008

skin cancer

And thou, O Sun, sarcomic yolk, illume
the ineffable veil, venting motes in
permeable gauze, content thou on the
zealous strings of discord and ring anew
the sonorous hymnal of clandestine
infallibility. The clean’d clock left
pale to glean the word and turd. Carniv’rous
Carcinogenic lore abjure and soft
upon yon guzzard flesh, mutable in
decay, and delight the porous av’tar
hemm’d round. On stain of wine in malefic
hue, as unctuous bukkake balm defiles,
the sentinel on the outpost between
worlds. The infernal, internal, snug in post
pancreatic humour, shameless to the
eye within, the cadaver in drag stung
silicone by the vassal potentate.
List not past zincal film, and, the corpseflow’r
kist, Refrain! Or herald flor’l caduceus,
blossomed to contempt’ous affidavit.
Thou gethyanki electric totem,
Foliage lov’d as teriyaki scallion
Brined kind in fleeting gastronomic plight,
Withhold thy dark’ning waves crashed over,
Sail on! For light with whim sinks bright and the
colloquial dust of a thousand and
thousand pledge wipes can’st not assail thou clip’t\
and versisimillitudinous song.
The love of flesh, thy cup refresh taint and
Tongue, my freckles stung, khaki clean press’d pant
Hung crease fresh maintain, the epidermal
Strife! Thou art pain in orgasm entwined!
Yolk to some and melanoma to me.

3 comments:

Kristen Hartman said...

i love all the apostrophes! very much like milton's. :)

Brynne Barnard said...

Jeff,
Let's get married.
-Brynne

Brynnetervention said...

Okay. Leaving your girlfriend isn't a requirement. I can work around it.

Let's face it... you're a vegetarian, like big words, and have good taste in scarves. We're meant to be.

Also, I make a hell of a vegetarian lasagna, thanks to Food Network... something else to tip the scales. Unless your girl's a literary critic and a chef. Then I'm done for.