more pigeon gore!?!

Not really. Happy Tax Day. And happy Jesus Zombification Day Eve.

The pigeon gore, while it seems to have subsided at the mo, did inspire a poem. Which I will share with y'all.

Before that, though, I want to comment on Tuesday's game night. It was the first time i've ever been involved in what I would say is a serious game of charades. Charades is really fun when you have silly people and ridiculous/offensive clues! I got to act out "semiotics," which was hilarious because after it had been gotten, Matt was all, "Semiotics of what? Just semiotics? That's all?" My favorite things I saw acted out were definitely "antioxidants" and "tranny hooker."

So now the poem:

There is no way we can untangle this string

Your skin, such a thin fabric protecting the rest of the world from your gore. Some warps and wefts are snipped—it's a cut, it's a clew. What's inside, it's lurid and pulpy.

The alimentary canal, a hollow string your body trucks through life. A string that long ago thickened, sprouted fins and limbs. Through years lengthened, curved back on itself. Furlongs of entrails packed in fantastic unknot.

What's outside, all those strings springing from your head. That tweedy jacket. Your fingers, frayed ends. My fingers, frayed ends.