In The Bioburbs - Passage

Under the hood, the coldwater pump

Lets the Monkey angels get us sick

Our flying flees and millipedes

Read our white count

And screen for the bug

The old fashioned physician treated bumps and bruises

Not hungry with tube feeding

But the new slumber party

Cancer can’t keep its solids down

We watch saints of popularity, rail thin snack on their Hollow legs

The hairless pairs of replicas dance and gossip

While at their feet are fighting fish

The upper half is pressing

Flesh-some compaign of the neurotic black heart

A vomit Competition

The autograph is a lap dance from the grammaphone No one will touch

Their priorities bruised, and without memory

They had to start turning away the ghosts

Of ignored parents like the old men who work the vending machines

Who’ve only asked to use the toilet

Plastic dresses ath the biotech frontier tonight

The pigeons are Continuous, their feathers burn toxic

The medicine animal is A misfit to the drum

Desperate to duplicate the whimper like a snapshot

Genetic jennies sip white zin and choose wallpaper

For the first boy crossbred with a sneaker’s new nursery

To sit Amidst change, a speak 'n' spell in his heart

Soon pacemakers Will be able to run for president

Or any creature with the proper papers

Until Detroit machinists, our laureates of the chariot…

Jesus Chrysler, cut me a break

Lay off the feelings and the spiders in the sink

And leave a depression in the wild

A missing man without A car alarm

Stuck in his knee or a pager in his palm