The System is Ruined

Eros Livieratos

A silver spoon; a crack

pipe. I love you, pieces

and all. God is a green 

thumbed woman—pierced

nose like a bull, eyes like

stuffed gray boulders. 

Chrysanthemum hands—

petals that shape earth to heart.

Lance of Longinus,

phallic and misplaced. 

Tonsils like an arched high

way—I want to swallow. 

My throat is a guarded clitoris;

the sidewalk on 14th 

is a battleground. If

a purple hued comet

broke our monotony like fist

through arcade screen or

small hands to cosmic dust

back into quarks or the

magic between the fingertips

of a pianist; I would still

love you.  Suffering and 

all. 

Tibia: support beam,

trash can foundation;

dreams of pataphysics, dreams

abject—sullen from trials of justice.

I repent to the wind; to the

marrow and the soil, the blood

yet to flow from a river, bleeding

Bacchus red—drowning in polka-dot pollution green

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