|the bad poetry made up of the typed paper bits reads:
exonerating the nucleus
in a rubenesque sense she is beautiful
in a beatlesque sense she is nowhere
in a freudian sense she is a monster
in a hitchcockian sense she is always vacant
she came around to break the law with her legs
and they came around to break her legs with the law.
at the nastiest time of sunset where the big ball is at its devilishest red, so evil you can see horns on it, she makes ridiculous splashes around his sanity.
her malady dance isn't explainable; he grows increasingly confused as to whether he loves her with all his blood or despises her of being so bloodless.
amidst all of this bullshit, a head-on collapse is waiting in her mouth.
her lover runs into her arms--unaware of her new physical arrangement, he bounces off of her breasts and lets him think twice; her breasts are enough to hold her chin in place and keep him away.
the hem of her dress bunches up in shame.
(so many good looking people have runs in their hose)
and he damned her like a scorpion would tie its tail on a stepping foot.
even his remains should run from her.
she's yet to stumble across an accident she won't regret.
|exonerating the nucleus, ??/??, clippings, typed paper bits and acrylic on canvas panel|