untitled
by Andrew Penland

 
anarchists
break
clocks
deliberately,
eventually
forgetting
God's
handiwork.
I
jostled
kaleidoscopic
lenses,
multiplying
nebulous
orgasmic
patterns.
quicksilver
reached
sidereal
thievery's
unique
values,
wrestling
xylophonic
yes-no
zodiacs.

 

untitled
by Andrew Penland

once upon a time,
a man with a television
for a head
met a woman with
a clock
for a face. inevitably,
they fell in love,
after an instant courtship,
they were married in
the garden of a lesbian
nun. to protect against spooks,
they hired Charlie Brown
to shoot the spectres
with his ejaculating toy
gun. as they took a joy
ride in Cinderella's carriage,
they laughed a music like tears
gone wrong.

they had been themselves
in a world that isn't, and
their moment was naked as
a cloudless day. God stopped
sucking off His lover for a moment
and He looked down, jealous of
our riskful lives.

(and a sinner
slipped into Heaven , unnoticed)
as He laughed,
suddenly unregretful He had made
the earth.)


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