Don’t Eat the Blowfish

Tastes like chicken but like everything else it’s not.

The liver is Nagasaki.

The lungs Hiroshima or Jesse James and

Dear Old Death comes to us all but

the quiver is fantastic.

Like lips full of bees.

Like a bucket of glue and no one but you.

Hey Toshi! It’s Number One on the Hit Parade!

Who cares that The Deal is about to go down the Crapper.

Or that we may have to eat the pets.

Elsewhere in the Kingdom it is dark but this is the Shit.

This is the Rush.

Like finding Jimmy Hoffa in the attic.

Like kicking Mother Theresa in the teeth.

Like fifty-fifty at best with tubes in the chest and second cousins eyeing the Will.


First Published by Milk and Cake Press: Dead of Winter Anthology

To the Current State of Affairs. Eternal Hope. Has Sprung a Leak. Calling for Help. Won’t Help. Please keep your seat or face Bodily Harm. Attention! A Brief List of Places you Don’t Want to Go: Mosco

PRELUDE 1948 Lion tails cartwheel through the smoke. Landing softly on the Screaming Platz. Zebras. Black White. Red. The earth vomits its crust and Yes. There are secrets to be kept so open wide. Suc

I like hanging with the Funcle. He knows the waitress from Woolworth’s and can Charm her at Will. On cue he gets cheese with his pie. Someday soon he will cup her breasts. His brothers are evil. The w