rec room home | language is key night

exquisite corpse june 01 2005

if there were 2 of me i'd be jealous
chill of prize package wavy-sound agreements
because on all american holidays we burn nest and explode gunpowder
and the dragon left scales all over the house
you are dead meat, motherfucker!
cumin and paprika in my pockets, hey
and so i collected wood, nails, knives,
there's no use turning; we won't budge
take a moment just to see. just to taste.
she didn't want to but she felt drawn to the spoonful of rich, buttery cream
she sold the watermelon for the price of a tomato
"mom, i don't cook." "you will."
is this therapeutic?
. . . the imposition of smoke, the danger
fold forward, fold forward, fold forward. . . not back.
ha? what? qué? como?