Two Poems

Scottish Hollywood

we were working near some molten metal one day and a crude image of a coiled cobra with a swollen hood showed up perhaps mens’ undergarments liquified air to cut a silhouette of a gun they’ll find it burnt and full of little chunks of giant spooky servers big flames shooting up off the scoop of my hissy fit stolen Sherlock annually to go it’s tight get in where you made myself the ugly metal doll obeyed mindlessly a priceless Da Vinci thing gets stolen from Scottish Hollywood like have you ever stolen anything dude you swear that your cat has stolen your pager the best thing about it is that I don’t get a recording contract “Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came” “I wonder what happened to him” a seldom nameless stoic Red Riding Hood cookie jar before the Red Riding Hood color pages some unsubstantiated formalist Red Riding Hood point of view and another psychotic Red Riding Hood pussy cock sometimes another paternal undertaker near Anna Nicole Smith whatever it takes to press a potato into the metal base when most people fall out of heavy metal they say nothing but rusted piles of doll clothes had killed a man Train Whitney Houston’s ploughing breaking ground for the spring her fantasy is a bunny bleeding to death she knew it would take some time swinging in her ropes “I’m gonna rip off your brassiere” I love all kinds of stuff fascinating stuff that happens all the time like when somebody in your family is near death and they come back to life as the greatest glam rock album of all time I don’t understand men who can’t make love I had been this unglamorous petty criminal and had been sentenced to death being naughty turned me on and scared me you introduced me to one of your pieces of metal family life is well balanced and I love my dad who thinks he’s Amish how I love to lay a finger between his knuckles and what do you do with your brassiere if you’re living on a train

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