mark a. thomas

joiner of you, without genius, at suicide's chokehold
seeker of distinctions among shame, contentedness, and intravenous scoffing
unanæsthetized graduate, anonymous schools of intestinal forestry
seeker of self in Borges' blindness
dismal reminder of your only mistake
i have a history of consequence, breathed gradually across centuries from harried guts of venal beasts
in 1749 i redacted plagiarized portions of the apocrypha, releasing unborn innocents from lifetimes of shame.
in 1628 i unread every dictionary, every white page, every yellow page
in 1287 i eschewed the monotony of rage, foreshadowing the end of the internet

i am a farmer of stiff fabrics prickled by dust and neglect who:

uses your obfuscation for education

uses soliloquists' flowery talk to embellish wildness

loiters on needless vernacular drawl

is conversant with unprovable claims of royalty in satan's lineage

i am new york city's official inspector of grade school bartenders
you are prone to random attacks of goosebumps
your unborn ancestors hitchhiked 47 paths to insanity
i am a sockpuppet of your generation
i am a gigolo at a crafts fair

NOBODY KNOCKED
GOOD NEWS TODAY,
TOMORROW,
TONIGHT,
ANALYSTS IGNORE THE
MURDER MARKET

sells telephones as rocks, scissors, stones
blames gravity for financial heart disease
traitor in a voting booth listening for your password
self-destructive inhaler of lepers
(quiet, please, as i coldly download your childhood's pocket of string)

I AM A WEEKEND CLOGGED WITH GRASSY MOONS,
A SANDWICH MADE OF CONCRETE,
A SNOWSTORM FILLED WITH MEAT

I AM PROTECTED BY GLAMOROUS SHAMBLES,
REDACTED FROM FUTURE NEWSPAPERS,
SICKER THAN A CITY OF ECCLESIAL MONEY