the banana is on the tip of my tongue
the pineapples on the back
the ice, the ice is everywhere
up and down my neck
…
for truly truth is true even when it’s untrue
and untruth is untrue even when it’s true
…
i had a nightmare of my hand
a daemon shoved it
past the lips of my cold blender
i watched it grind
blood and sinew splattered spinning
gore like peaches, nectarines
bone was almond in her roar
blender, blender, longed for more
…
lost poems, lost notebooks, all like bits of dreams falling up in the tip of the cappuccino foam. a taste, a taste on the tip of my tongue, and then gone.
