[Cowboy, don't...]

Aaron Shurin

Cowboy, don't eat me. Yes I'm tasty, yes I've come from my warren stuffed like a Christmas goose, tongue lolling. But cowboy, think of my varnished nose, my bucket of pink gums, the opera of my eyes. Let the knotted grid loosen, let your hard silhouette overflow — alluvial redemption — let me slink away soundlessly into the lavender hills — sanctuary caravan — cowboy, don't eat me, go for the calf over there, tender as cactus jelly. I'm too sweet and too fat, my innards are frescoes of hormone spikes and acid splats — mucho digestive scrabble — don't open me to the scouring winds, please, close your paring knife, your dripping cowboy lips… Life is episodic and a revolution idles, there behind the pink escarpment where my pack is gathering now… The world, este mundo immenso, gyrates and kicks, and the hot stars in their pale ignition are burning… burning…


 


 

 

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