The Demon Lover’s Wedding Night (poem)
My face has no face, only expressions.
My face has no face, only expressions.
You ever watch that British baking program where they’re all sweet & polite / & you just know…
You imagine us angry, spiteful, / eager to destroy the world…
Lewd hooves trample geometry…
Skin tossed onto the chair / spine tucked under the bed…
Little Shop of Horrors plays…
I don’t want you to think / I’m stalking you…
Antifa is / dew that rises / from a dark corner / of the walled garden…
The phenomenon of my noumenal skeleton brokenly reconstructed…
He had my eyes and his papa’s nose / And a killer’s hands and a burglar’s toes…