Elegy on Nietzsche

O why! did Nietzsche
die before that horse?
A subtle end, whether
by the hands of syphilis
or inner doubt. —so
caught my heart with
beleaguered tenderness
by hands of the canker
that brought him to his
knees, there in the street.

"Can someone help my
daughter; she's ecstatic."
You see the liquid leaking
into a sweet pink pool,
feel the static of impending
low front. There is a gutter,
it hurts as much as
mulching dead daises.

How to Buy Shrimp

Should you buy it
frozen? You don't know
how much it's been
sitting around. Fresh
caught, or frozen, juices
inside of the head will
start to macerate down.

I love this stuff. I
read the fine print.
I eat the pan-fried
with butter-crisp Shrimp.

Where're the eyes. Where's
the monger, so wary of my
cooking.

Pail

The anodized aluminum
pail carried over hills, and
through valleys grows heavy.
It's faceted surface reflects
no face plainly. But cuts it up
into rectangles, squares of
face colors. Darker at night.

And it carried to you by the
children of the world. You, not
having child of your own.

carries with you, the animus
of water. Who loves you like
a brother, while sloshing. So
cold, of that more silver metal

What

is a racing game
going backward

like. The so frustrated
manipulation with too fat
fingers the fine things

paint not yet dry
sticking. Move more
quickly, fail anyway.

the Object of My Affection

Only practicing,
it atrophied. The
lead; mount up.
The flank plan
fled, though who
inhaled it lost
as sand through
fingers—them &
lands in slowly
growing ovals

Idly pushing 'round
self-same, the light
out dim or absent—
matters not

throwing mess of stuff mal-
content with utter context
of ugly body, container
container-holder ousted.

Your sins have never
left this house