Sometimes, regarding wolf dog people in power suits and spandex from space, we distract ourselves from uncomfortable feelings by rushing to claim, mark, sort, understand, accept, reject, or make a knowing chortle towards. Now, with years of research to draw upon, one thing is certain: Stop. Stop and un-find un-sort un-understand. Our data will soon be slipping back into the substrate within ancient museums to be buried at sea. Where, at last, again, all fossils, skeletons, books and records are to be returned to the permanent collection. Power Animal System is a limited time offering.

There is a neon color-blocked unitard on a wind-burnished statue of a forgotten lioness-headed goddess, in a desert, strong legs forged of gold, not waiting to be discovered. There are a pair of pink speedos on an enormous wolf bound and gagged under the earth where he will remain until the end of earth’s days, when the sun is eaten by his children.

There are lionwolf womenmen in battle, beyond time, in heels, wrestling, attacking, using telepathy. Sleek silver space wolves play geometrically instructive domination submission games. Tiger people moray in and out of visual fields preferring fabrics that absorb unstable light. And who could possibly suspect the power-suited wolfdoggirlboyboygirl CEO newscaster secretary witches, after work, in their devastatingly beautiful terrified acceptance of death, carefully guiding newly departed souls to the threshold of an unknowable beyond.

You are fire your dress is fire . . .
. . . like an everlasting flower unsoiled
–Sayat Nova

From sky she came
perched our wrestling ring,
in a Tito’s t-shirt
a cigarette burn
at the block party, she
had a Lohan holiness
in clown shoes.

Escaped Lazarus, incestuous
brother w/ cracked ankles &
a lost dog—Religious, Supple,
she carried stringed wands for instrument,
narcotics, her American spiral dance.

The Vikings never got her though,
she’d told us, they’ll get you
threatened us with her scolding
reshaping her children of G.

Our Lady! Queen! Bowing low and drugged,
we ask for your blessing,
your virgin fuck
in Christ-dress
Lavinian wrists

Next day I fasted,
her scent on my fingers.

we keep fucking that chikin.
no substitute for damnation,
we maul with meat wads, force
clotted feathers into chasmal crotch.
later, we pluck the plumage,
roast the demon banty for birthday lunch.

let the pecker rot.

BATHING IN YOUR HOUSE
DRESS
DOES THE LAUNDRY
DOES FOR A CLEAN CROTCH
AND CLEAN LAUNDRY
GREASE
PENCIL POETIC BAR
GIRL NYLON RUNS
YOUR LATEST
MASTERPIECE

Eat your makeup
Kill everyone now
Do my balls mama

Eat dog shit
Can you fuck
as good as your mother?

Eat police men
Beauty always gives
me a hard on

Eat Crackers
Just ‘cause you got them
big udders doesn’t mean

you’re something special
Eat your eggs
God, I wish

I lived in Connecticut!
Eat puke
Who wants to die for art?

Always waiting for your hockey grin/ the pierce of your sea-weeded harpoon/ an axe in my forehead, perhaps/ I wouldn’t mind the burn of your rope around my neck/or the force of you slamming me against a tree-mid-sleeping-bag/ the crunch of my bones against its trunk./ In fact I’m hoping for it Jason, come catch me, finally, stalk me with your Hodder gait/ your ghostfacesuicidekilla pimp walk./ Every day is Friday the 13th/ catch me catch me catch me/ be a good boy, shove a knife through my tits/ knitting needles through the ears/ machete my gut/ you half-drowned deformed little fuck.

Patient Zero (For The Sensitive Tail)

The Wonders of Me

Debbie

Channel Z

Queen of las Vegas

Hot Pants Explosion

The days are shot and people are rotten–
But fuck all that: Beauty’s not forgotten!

Art is magic and life can be nice
Even when festooned in shit and lice.

So dry your tears, babe, you ain’t no tool,
And enjoy this most magisterial of editions–
The One And Only: Charm School.

-Alex Jovanovich