Dr. Zampano's Tent of Occulary Wonders

 

 

O baby seedy
O my singing enemy
You are a cabinet of oddities

Now that you've lain in the coffin beside the weeping dwarf
Now that you've
seen the headless woman pump artillery fire
                                                      into
the spider-headed, mathematically adept swans

Lie Down inside my tent
Let me tie strings to each of the tiny pink muscles in your mouth
                                                      & perform
A theater of cruelties
Let me pull each piece of muscle out & lay it out on the table
in the shape of
an oriental fan              depicting elysian scenes of snow-egrets
                     slamming into aeroplanes

O baby seedy
I will auction you off as the Singing Nerve
The Needle in the Eye

Let me drill holes
in your spine &             let the pearls come plinking out of them
& into             the mouths of verbose, calculating pigs

I will display your skin in a glass case
& sew             my name onto it in red sequins
I will not give you mine to wear
while I ice you in the Frigidaire

I'll let the moan-deer puncture you
I'll be bored while you're gored
to death

Later on, perhaps, I'll resurrect you

 

 

back to issue one

 

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