from Weirde Sister

James Gendron

Now my thoughts wander sexfully
Toward the image of Satan
Sumptuous dark angel
His voice a white root
His voice a river of onyx and venom
His velvet wing brushing the velvet rat
His visage reflecting & refracting
Along the tortured surface of the waters
Sometimes I think I am in lava with him
Upon the windswept & majestic heights
Of Sex Cliff he calls my secret name
His castle jiggles in the air
Due to being made of human gelatin
He wears a shawl of knit-together stars
His bed is on a venomous tongue
His flames are dark but they glow in the dark
His hands very warm from the flames
His skin brightly lit by the flames
A supervisible radioactive mirror
The boundary of God’s love in the world
Satan poof!s into the village of Fisherton Anger
There is rancor there
It’s like oxygen to him
He takes a whiff
His lungs are tongues
His skeleton comprises one bone
From every species of dinosaur
Satan brushes a hand through his hair
All of his hair is pubic
His horns rise & throb like cocks
His sense of humor is perfect
He drapes insane black fungus on the fields of rye
He takes the form of a lettuce eaten by a nun
A portrait of Satan jotting down ideas for STDs
One that turns your genitals to clowns
One that, when you contract it, it kills your best friend
One that cancels your parents’ influence in your life
He invented chocolate
He is the one who first thought up drugs
One day he doodled in his notebook a rough draft
Of the outline for speaking disrespectfully to officers of the law
He has many fingers
I would even say too many
He soaked & burst a planet by crying into it
He fishes whalesongs from the sea to do self-pleasure with
His eyes tangled in stars
What we see is a kaleidoscope compared to what he sees
In a locked cabinet in his library is an autographed copy
Of a creature’s book of space-numbers
He actually cries when he sees a rainbow
It reminds him of the beauty of being gay
It reminds him of literature
Which he cries when he reads it
His tears fall on the page and light it on fire
It reminds him of his imprisonment
Ensconced within a vast bouquet
Of history’s warmest flames
In his world the flames have names
And names burst into flames
Green ghosts wiggle all around the cake
He lovingly has prepped for the birthday of alcohol
Green cats follow his scent
Of a rotting mule carcass touched with milk
Everywhere his pawprints are available to lick
Satan sits in a cavern and reflects
His teeth are scary
He has scary teeth
Scary, scary teeth
Boo! they seem to say
I mean
Somebody needs to care about us
Even if they only care to the extent
That they want to make sure we suffer
So thank you, Satan
You alone have recognized me
Of all the deities you fly solo
In that you take an interest in my life

James Gendron is the author of Sexual Boat (Sex Boats) and Weirde Sister.