poem #1

Rage, it belts  like a  rooster’s cock.  Just another  seismic  layer.

This attempt  to wage  war on it  as if  it were  overcome

with contam inating  things all too  foolishly  in the  name of

cucumber  fulfillment.  Hesitate  to say  what it is  instead

kissing and  licking the  buckle  of its  wallet  over

and over  again.  Instead  liking it  like a  surgical

hand scrub. Skin  bleeds out blotched  puños.  Too many  layers  gusta.

This is the  fashion and  like it or  not its  in me  and you   

Few of us  forget  this factoid.  I’m going  to spend  everyday  of the

Rest of my  small life  killing it  liking it  over and over again