Maybe you or I
will find this poem
and hear a melting.
like butter n’ cheese in the sun
makes humanfriends / barf balls.
I eat everyday
Green-Bay Packer fandom
screamed into me like I scream.
The image of my father
fades into Brett Favre.
crossed christ say cheese
Crosses all over the house like in the lord's house? I didn't say shit about crosses everywhere. I didn't say hang
my dang crosses on everywhich doorframe.
I twipflitched all day
the horizontal wingslice of a bread middle schoolie ‘cept for whiles
and would forget about that thanks
I hangdangled all day
and those lame
Paparazi gentile post-grunge disciples, those avante-garde soft boi medium rares, and the like vapor-eye public say chritchcross daddly, your phrase. I got a store to keep
and the store front sign reads “SutchLuck” and hotdogs all in process
from that meat mill out in the wild wild the glass one where McCartney plays all day
and the vapor eye public says hey check this shit out on - the gritschmass, the slirch - mess of meat.