your ocean thighs

You Are an Exquisite Corpse

transmogrifying and
growing appendages
never intended.

Your exquisite corpse
cycles through different heads
as your whim catches.

Your octopus head
globular and gentle.

Your paramecium body
dizzy and cilial.

Your surgical instrument arms
sharp and askew.

Your gelatin shoulders never
stop quivering.

I thought I heard the mermaids singing from your ocean thighs.

If I were a ballooman
and you were an aquatic jelly
cum flower nostrum —
would the cure be worse than the fright?

Would anything make pleasant sense in an upside down world?

Or would the lack of seven worlds throw order into chaos?

“When it all comes together, a creative life has the nourishing power we normally associate with food, love, and faith.”

-Twyla Tharp / The Creative Habit

About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....
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