
Grunt ah da HogMan
Squint-eyed monochromatic
on the screen of her childhood
He’s talking globular in brays and winces
A hive of astringency
in this corner of the universe
voices echo
Pins and needles thighs
inner thigh billabongs
oxbows surgically repaired
Get away hog man
get back to hog land
hog man
dead end
Mutton mouth
carnival-lips agape
carny barking
under orange / yellow wisps
Get away hog man
get back to hog land
hog man
dead end

“I remember writing a poem about killing my parents and reading it to my mother. She was not very happy but she always encouraged me nonetheless. I was 12.”
— Lydia Lunch / “The Creative Independent”