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Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life

Poesy
Three Poems
by Brandon Freels

Us

I pretend to sleep in this hot hole. Soon someone will pretend to wake me up. I almost forgot about that snake piercing your tusk. This morning I thought I felt a fish swim out of the ground. It is hot in this hole. I am thinking of a tongue growing from the side of a coconut. It is pressed up against my rectum (a mole encysted in a pink palm). Hats are a kind of female fish, my doctor promises, and we are like pigeons with lips. I want to cover your blinking eyes with macaroni and ham. I am searching for your lips in an oily discharge. Where and whom you are now I can only guess. I like my lips coated with fur.



Moan

Together we blow the Ferris wheel around a pile of missing teeth. I can't eat anymore. I'm trying to look at an elephant, but all I can see are the black eyes of a woman evaporating into an exhaust pipe. Her head is a chandelier hovering over my shoulders. Her body is a lake of honey and mushrooms inside my stomach. I'm not here anymore. I'm in the helicopter buried below my mother's blouse. I'm listening to the feathers sprouting in the garden. They look like impaling rods. Now it's raining, and a girl walks across the yard carrying a barrel of microscopes. I want out. Sometimes I remove my seatbelt, and pray.



I Quit

I forgot you were hiding underneath the marbles (cigars in your hair). Two eels swam out of the smoke, and spat a pineapple at a station wagon. This is why your face is masked with a slug's huff. Your friend was here today. He punched a sports car down my throat. Below its hood I found a campfire, and a trail that led to a croissant. When I was six I decoded the Ten Commandments from the back of an oily crab. Now I only collect sad, dead things. A red sky marks the spot where Galileo's head swiveled. This morning I was eating something. I can't remember. Someone was here before me.

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