Monday, February 07, 2011

The idea is to make the babies
work; they are so photogenic
and their lungs are so ripe
and pink. All the birds come
falling down, out of the sky
like ashes. A little song sings
a-long like a little rope-gold
lasso. Spinster-whip sinister
sisters, muse-twins conjoined.
Embryos harvested for their
fossil fuels. Blood is a gas
that burns blue as DNA:
genetic pyrotechnics. All
the pink babies go pop!
pop! pop! We're so naked
in our humanity. It's like
we were all just born.

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is this real?