ANGELS FALLABLE

ANGELS FALL
ANGELS FALL
ANGELS FALL
on penis.with fishies in his
pockets that makes for strange
conversations.
yes. Ther'es con'fusion in da' hous.
and the hose is spurting out infinities
and fucking little Georgia May
with its black hole thunder lips.
And THEY RISE
THEY RISE
like a rinsed out cowboy,
homocloaked in funny boots and
big hat,
he has a cheesy grin and melting hands.

tea-time
for the
witch.

cackles....

vermin poets eel their way through the stars
shitting out dumb verbs and
poking dare tail-feathers in our ears.
our ears are soft and penniless,
grown fond of sticky offerings
where baby seed is given freely
such dealings make us bless'd.
for how else are babies made?
but through jizzy-wizzing on one ladies
pink-lit lobe?

and, sir, i ask of thee...is love not
made from white and gold?
tell me, sir, what has your heart
been told?