L A R A   G L E N U M
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TWO POEMS

On the Halcyon Shores of Lake Climax

 

When I first saw The Beautiful Tremor, I was wearing a rabbit
grope & clutching a pink baton. Mechanically, he said, ‘That's

nothing. Even hermaphrodites can twirl while spouting two jets
of husky out of their nipples.' I said, ‘I haven't got any joyrides,

only these two ticks whose heads are embedded in my chest.'
Unbuttoning my shirt & spying my damp green grounds, he

punctured my skin, and his jingly machine began to vomit out its
punk riches. Later, in the carnal lodge, I let The Beautiful Tremor

touch my tent revival & the sky coughed out its bones. I grew
into a crooked vacationist. I vomited light for years.

 

 

n e x t

 

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