A Note on Hygiene

wash your fucking hands

cause lord knows you’re picking your nose all the time

I see you

You smell like hair

And I can’t tell

What’s issuing from you

And what’s wafting up

From the sidewalk


Tidy is not a word

That comes to mind

When someone mentions

Your name


But your teeth,

Those maize kernels,

Those snot buttered pop corns

Populating your



brush dat breff

brush dat breff

DNA spin cycle that shit

compressed hormonal profile

Unpacked til we yakked

The reminder that we’re all made

Of bologna and star dust

Offal and precious metals

Strung together

On vile sinews

And juicy tissues:

A mobile

Of soft, vulgar

Jewels set

In aspic.






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