1. THIS IMAGE IS LARGE
2. and these are zombies.
3. I'm still one poem behind,
4. have been for days now,
5. but I will make these last few count if you stay tuned.
You Know the Phony
We’re forging ghost meat,
clay, or wax. Let’s fingerbang.
Let’s be together forever now,
a duplex echoing with yell:
I’m you. I’m you. We’re big cuckoos,
we swell with noise until the chest
under us bursts into gross-smelling flames
-- you know the phony
never liked you. The pictures which all
were hating you, staring you down
from the tack paper, your lentil
of good hope a big hate in their eyes.
But now the tiny venge is grown
and knit up like a vine. Something
with no father, forever climbing.