You Are an Exquisite Corpse (redux)

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?

What I’m Reading:

“The fern of the mind suffers a solar age
And becomes what it suffers—the sun is not
A star, but a flower.”

— Dan Beachy-Quick / “Onta”