a poem for today, 6 December 2012
[a letter sorted sonnet of four sentences and its image]
I just had some pineapple chunks in a can from Charles Manson's ranch.
For it is very probable that the refrigerated parts grow warm by such stripes, and excite a heat in the seminal matter, and that the pain of the flogged parts, which is the reason that the blood and spirits are attracted in greater quantity, communicate heat also to the organs of generation, and thereby the perverse and frenzical appetite is satisfied.
Embracing the inner pink and living with intention and absurdity.
I'm a sick boy, there should be more.
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