breaking bread with clown fish
Garrote
of the senses, Kung-Fu master
chef—
we are breaking bread with clown
fish—
Boolean operator sequences the
train, it’s open season on
vampires—
hate fills the void when love
dribbles paste:
I never knew you were
tantric—
in the philosophy of kindergarten we
are all crayons.
curry paste makes me flinch
Beyond
normal capacity: curry paste makes
me flinch—
sasquatch precipitates a cryptic
lesson—
you should have hesitated before
pulling the punch—
the globe is oval, your breath, lemon pepper—
I am tired of this world, but still prescient:
awaken
the sleepers, yet let seals dream of fish!
to tangle with a jellyfish
Easy
goes the boom mic, on my lips is
gold—
Iditarod of the sheep, you are too kind—
interrogate phrases of mankind—
if
you want to, try to tangle with a jellyfish:
on Christmas Eve,
on rye toast,
on deck.
damage to the warehouse goods
Frozen
shell of beef and broccoli, itinerant
philosophical underpinning—
issues with my mother, damage to the warehouse goods—
open sesame seeds, if you want to live, break the silence—
I
never knew about Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John:
comedians masticate on the open
savanna.
for the sake of the yakuza
I
am a damaged Big Mac, neon fusion of
light—
lies and slander of the highest
degree—
arc welder sings of the body, we are stars—
in the movie of my life, make me warm—
I
lived a life of regeneration, for the
sake of the yakuza:
if only the tea kettle agreed with
me for one second—
it’d be all over.
Jeremy
Scott
is from Albany, Georgia. His poetry has been
published or is forthcoming with Selcouth Station, Lothlorien Poetry
Journal, Gutslut Press, Fifth Wheel Press, weird laburnum, Scud,
and others.