Organ Mania

In close patterns and dishrag omens
Squalor ranks high in foredooming

Scales of ostentation. Did you see
Thos drapes, mock the robot cleaners,

Ha-Ha. Your look back is also marked
By treasures of iniquity asking: could I be

Any more of a house? I’m a carrot stringed
Curtain all loose and imaginable

They took the steel plate in my head
To use for an ash tray. I remember the carpet

Like orange sunset through toxic runoff
And make guesses about childrearing

And other important facial ticks, gestures,
Expressions to hold luncheons on.