Finally I came up here to see. My skin is DuPont Corian. Or so I thought until I felt something get up my back, seize my hair and shove a muzzle in my neck.
I haven’t not drunk a day in years. Most of the work I’ve done is scholarly. I saw some garbled catfish at Borobudur. Hairless apes celebrate the Buddha’s death.
God is a hand-warmer made of tempeh, a catamaran on Half Moon Bay, a porter pointing and calling; God is Adam Lanza’s mother’s AR-15, the hairball of an ox, a chair nobody sits in; He’s bright copper, and Warren Zevon’s truck; God is a World Heritage Blight, and something Bernie Taupin once had Elton John sing.