Exquisite Corpse - Issue 3
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slingshot of the golden loam
by Dave Brinks & Andrei Codrescu


dear mister saucy pants

(aka. God)
you shine like honey
                            and bed your lust
between us & the blood
of a thousand hungry sleep scrolls

where's your manners?

You let them fundamentaliss
  and comuniss
run your business for You
   when Your children here we are
      in our midnight milkmen suits
        do your work kaleodoscope-like &
           animated by so much love it hurts

                give us back our do-nothing prayers
                                              Your twisted sons

or a knife or a bottle or a club or a gun

just knowing You are hurtling
                             somewhere on this dark night
bad comedies in my head

around the bend I see astrophysicists
       leaving the convention hall to murder You
                with particle accelerators

We give you political asylum, Lord
          and honey to rub on your ontological weariness
                    and a bell to summon us when You are frightened

                     We come running innocent blobs of blood & faith
         too broken by years & thoughts You never told us
We live a ruin on busted street corners

shoving songs
                   in Your children's mouths
where laughter seems out of place
and the intention
             of the organism is to scream

                                but that coup de foudre look on their faces

is a wolf to our sheep
    we shed the fleece & go on eating the grass, nubby skulls

on hillsides, gypsies on beds of cana
                        ready to march this mother father land
laid end to end
quilt of lovebites crosshatched by scars
             we are the freckle hunters parachuted
                    behind the enemy lines
                                of the bean counters

                                         we drag our parachutes in front of us
                                                                through doors
into misplaced paradises
                                                           the head hangs the
                                        handcuffed to bedposts
                        where sleep is perfect
and more terrible than air
Cadavar Exquisito
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