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Poetry #123
(published February 27, 2003)
Radio (from Mommy, part 3 of 5)
by Barry Blumenfeld

"Where do we come from?"
Well, from water? Dust?
Fools from folly. One
Cannot answer prayers
Addressed to God knows what.
Fool me not. A sprite
Of dust or fluff or dander
Waved hi or bye-bye
From a tusk of goo —-
Some impasto on
The D'o`u venons-nous.
You lunged at the wall,
Impatient lover,
To enter that world —- to
Intussuscept the in-
Violate. Art's housefrau. Gag
Me with a plunger. I

Crap two turds
For suffering humanity —
Ants on parade
In a dead cat's snarl,
Clots in the ear
Of a rotting squirrel —
That and that ilk
Gall me. That's me. But
Wild you vomited —-
Some girls of innocent knee
Got immolated in a Catholic
School, Philadelphia, 1960 —
On your knees, by the radio.
Hee hee, ho ho. You
Also grieved for Cheerios.

Dead lady, snoring,
Looks like,
In the next bed.
Urine. Iron doors, locked.
I knocked and knocked
Until they let us
In. We hopped across
Ammonious puddles.
Hansel and Hansel,
Me and Mike,
Came to see what
You might like. A cup
Of bitters. A bit of tea.
Sugar, pepper, nice
Quick knife. Kill me
Mommy, kill me soon, kill
Me with this little spoon.
Push it down my chickee
Throat, choke me with
A pound of spice. Do it,
Do it, do it soon, take
Me to your bedlam room.
I want it want it want to go
Want to stay, don't make
Me go. Let me stay, don't
Make me go, let me
Be your radio.
Let me be here, let me stay,
Don't make me, make me,
Make me go. Let me
Be your radio.

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