Are you there, Laura Mulvey? It’s me, The Ridiculous Blight of the Earth.
comparing gaze do we measure eyeballs in fluid ounces or Kelvin
cuz the HIGGS-BOSON‘s just plain invisible when ya try to stare straight at it
like a solar eclipse turns ya blind like too many nights dialing ‘0’
on the pink telephone line
and I forgot if I was looking with my girl eyes or my man-trained to be girls of men eyes
I’m just so dumb I’m sorry
il ne cherche edelweiss like Julie Andrews
might say if she were existential that spunky bitch lmao
on the sofa is tomfoolery collapse
his fair lady: master, please hit me again for speaking with my mouth
and thank you for teaching me where to put my tongue
when pronouncing my “r’s” and what else
can I do to please you
such as calculate the statistical probability of ‘appearance’
corresponding in backwards loop to ‘seemingness’
the judging of book covers and whatnot
but alack!
doubt thou the stuffness of stars is hydrogen
fueled to grant all humanity’s wishes
excepting the thousands of years its light must travel to bestow them
doubt thou
cruelty is the most natural kindness
or kindness the most unnatural of cruelties
imbecility! we all want to call it out
admiration! femmina! Wanderer! the abyss!
we all want to know if morality is really worth anything
darling that is the secondary role requiring permission
to buy groceries for that delicious casserole the whole neighborhood
gabbed of profusely all Memorial Day Weekend
mandarin oranges sliced, cottage cheese, marshmallow bits in cherry lime J-ELLO
presented on a crisp, green lettuce leaf
and how funny, by that I mean how odd
and by that I mean I have not stopped crying
deservedly the will to power is the constant
by which our drives will sink or rise
so rise up, little gentleman what a good little knob
it’s only an advertisement after all
where two atoms like mice on a track
are forced to circle for miles, then collide
with impossible violence
blather (gag) sartorial ‘splanations
I’m sorry this did not make you happy
the reason I pause so often in conversation
is to say ‘fuck you’ silently
the shaman told me a diaphanous wisp of spirit
desperately wants
to align
with my intestines
that’s why I’ve been so ill for so long