The mole is a non-terrestrial visitor
Author Archives: Theo Holdt
it opens my head up
the clock springs leak out like pink toes on face farmers
and eggs come in and eggs go out
Cryo suited city beached babies
sharing fags with freaks
wait for the gray caterpillar suits to
propel us into the darkening fields.
Your eyes multiply on your face into
the dimples of an egg
of a shambling land squid
and all the shadow thoughts
surround me, poke me, with
slightly irritating daggers.
Underneath I am hard
for your golden eggs
and a memory of our bodies
intertwining like entrails
of two immaculate slaughtered angels
of blue mist and red sky
lies between us like cartoon thought bubbles.