or bodies made of smoke
or a giant made of meat hearts


I want a floor

like this


and shining

everything in its right place

even when

it’s not


we are bathed in green lights
the first star is still waiting
to arrive
to Katowice


I’m sitting in a little wooden room
typing this
in a room full of Russian dolls
all different sizes
inside each doll is another doll and another and so on
we all know about those Russian dolls


A large snowman is sitting on the stool next to me. It has a blue hat, red scarf, and red nose. It is lit from the inside. By 25 white lights.


There are two pots on the balcony. I have opened one. It is a large pot of onions. Swimming in oils. Beautiful oils. There are also hideen chunks of Herring.


I stood on the balcony to watch the snow melt into mud. Fur hooded Polish girls were walking their sausage dogs. They pull down their fur hoods and wish each other a merry Christmas.


I cannot believe the feelings those onions have given me. They are pefected underground.


My love has gone beyond its ketchup
My love cuts the mole
My love is a harlot aria

My love is an abominable snowman
bathed in green light
please pass the popcorn
or the soon to be
and the ruskie pierogi
my love is warm kapusta
bubbling in yr belly
and yours and yours and yours

spoon me in space
spoon me in your bobby socks
in the deerhooves
of Poland
the girls fork over their fats
my love lets skinny dip
be a better butter
for the living

Wesolych Swiat Bozego Narodzenia . .


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