Trip to Supermarket

Hand is poised above the box –
I have never made the harder choice
The harder choice chose me
There was nothing much between my love
And eternity.

Poise in hand above the tin –
Lonely can of cannelloni
Riding on a magic pony
They all think you are a phony
But I think you’re my homie.

Hand above the poison can –
Soner SybeR Elias
Working in a bank
Executive recruitment
Bonus on the crank
Graffito by the rail,
Remain hirsute in fifty years?
Will you write at all?

Pausing hand above the candle –
A drop of milt a foil a jerk on Sunday rudder
And mewling puking fears come true
No matter how many times I practice
The surprise is a moment away
Try out releasing or hanging on to the end
Fear dances hands and voice box and balls
Oh strings
Snuffed unexpectedly all the same.

Poisson hand above the curve –
The deviant wins in time
Strangeness separates from the beast
Oddness from our selves
But what does magic achieve
If euphoria echoes Sugar leave alone God?
Who seriously studied play dodges them cogs
Doomed to note them rocking sleeping leave alone smashed.

Peas and ham above the clam –
It is the day of the Labrador, every home a niche
Every shade as long as it’s Lab, Lake Victoria-ish
As raptor cross with crow against the cloud
And ibis track their gossip in the mud
And spaniel, Staffy, poodle, sniff their poos
La Labrador lollops quietly toward their shoes.
Nothing is endangered. Great white Lab, ringtail Lab, Labraminke fetched
Labracoralpolyp, Yellow (River) Lab, small traderador, patched
Spliced and indigenous enough, an ecosystem of Labrador
Just like the original, perfection, just a little fatter.
We will every one of us be Labrador, our hair, our clothes, our fruitador,
All adaptive radiation all the time, into love, to grief, and grinning whore
We will all be thylacineador, benefactor, dictator, shopper too
With the fusty breath of Capital we’ll wag and gnaw a shoe.

Prison harangue above the gramme –
I’d be a better man if I knew what I was in the first place
(I have a list somewhere) but as the sky is casually amazing
Until I cannot open my gob in the hospice, lips sweet with heroin
I will go on about things with a less than perfect grasp
Just to shine up my ignorance, just to get somewhere.

A hand is poised above the box –
The cat lies dead inside
Spoilers in the preview
Or the physicist lied.