after Mike Kelley and John Waters
We are just this kind of junk
Left out to rot in another
Caricature the concept of nature
Or essence means the world to us
Perhaps the symbolic death
That was Reagan Paul Thek
Adumbrated by Pop and not Junk
Not this actual material eroding
Ideas of the 'good' and 'real'
Someone to tuck you in at night
Someone to fuck you like we
Were not all monsters whether
We like it or not some concept
Of culture takes our place
What did the hippie leave us with
Except some notion of the citizen
Public unassimilable criminalized
Even though white crushed
By the political machinery
Deengineering a tenuous democracy
Containing American decadence.
I mean these men and not
These women (men) these places
That were never place enough
(displaced) to blame us in
The eyes of all people (unpeopled)
The sea will rise and we are
This rising (so sited) the dirt
Will move it will be replaced
By money (rather instantly)
It will erode and we will
Have been this dirt (here)
The difference it will have
Caused (always over there)
This is our sense
Of humor in hell
The mask you wear
Of a pig’s face
Reminds me of this
The maggots in that
Naval which would
Otherwise give birth
To the world the
Eyes that seem to
Be everywhere
Desirous frenzied
Not meeting each
Other in their
Reflections sensing
That total sense
Of senselessness
We awake from
All-too-privately
If you or I would
Ever shit still
If we would ever
Partishipate this
Filth could affirm
Empire’s manner.
