Tuesday, October 27, 2009
AMERICA: THE PROSE POEM
this sandwich is a bad person. this sandwich is a bible verse where christopher columbus rapes his wife who is a young west indian woman. i eat the sandwich. i puke out the national anthem. i begin to sweat. my sweat is a guitar solo played by a white man over black music. it is sweet. the sweat soaks into the air and evaporates into a rain cloud just below the ceiling of the mega-church where we have gathered. it begins to rain and the rain is acid rain. there are others. they begin to sing glory, glory, hallelujah. the sun is always shining here. it shines into the roof and through some filters that make the bulbs glow like something swedish. someone shoots a gun at everyone here and we all beat him the fuck up. we eat his body. but first we bless it with the horrible prayer of our horrible hearts. we begin to fuck one another in a messy pile of bodies. whoever cums first is the winner. the winner gets a medal. it is the nobel prize in cumming first. everyone but the winner begins to cry. "i wanted that award," we scream together. we scream all-knowing. we scream one voice channeled through, lifted from the inside of the rain like a stolen vcr with a bootleg copy of the jfk assassination inside it. i will eat your scream screams another scream and this scream is the devil. and the prayer of our hearts is not powerful enough to outscream this evil scream. and we are turned into an inward self-fucking where we are one beautiful body pounding inward on itself with jackhammer force. and what of it we scream like a casserole unbaked. what of it?