congealed bacon (redux)

i googled white nationalism—
flashes of congealed bacon

you play the tragic heroine
toothy femme fatale

dont judge my painting
until i finish my ropa vieja

dont cut your hair
before tinting it blue

i fix you a tongue on rye
my marbles gather dust

we wait for slide guitar solos
on an unmoored pontoon bridge

in darkness your voice
has the timbre of rime

the choice you say—love
love

is love

What I’m Reading:

The factory makes food, and also children. The origins of the children are randomized. Some are derived from cows; others from whales or rabbits.
“Why don’t they make human-derived children?”

— Hiromi Kawakami / “Keepsakes” / Under the Eye of the Big Bird