Friday, May 11, 2007

Duchamp & the Traveling Graces

These horns make it difficult to pass security.

Very often the fears they inspire

are closeted by the machismos that necessitate

both airline piloting and the sort of failed

yearning for imposing order on the world

which results in the airport security detail.


I may have said too much about it already,

The sandwich lady is digging with a shovel

for pastrami and the oversized advertisements

usher me into mental decay on glacial levels.

She passed me a wrap of tapeworms and you know


what I said? I said maybe it will grow up

to look like me. Can you believe that? Also

it was wrapped in scripture, Psalm worms

wriggling up my ever after.


So I wrapped my horns in a towel and they punched

my ticket to the slippery State bordered

by constant burning repression and catatonia,

pre-awarded structures like these horns, which I

confess were made by another creature before

the security guards dispatched it.


I’m on my way to infiltrate the museum. So you know.

I’m diving in to smash the toilet I was

bred of. If you meet a tape worm, one of god’s

children in your intestine, listen for her message:

The path to mercy is an insistent flushing.

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