Poem switches gears midway through. Something your not supposed to do. Character barges in and there it goes again. Like its grumbling up against La Comedia. Last stanza needs more work.
Bit by a wild stark tenderness
came in rushes at cups
and back and forth
something beautiful
and angry and hungry and stunned
beating
beating back the demons
for an elixir of blood.
Something formal but ill formed
gets decried to snare of lair
seed and flood
of its antimatter
eye up on ceiling
caught, red, handed.
Get down.
Get down from there.
The monster is juiced -
Holy cruces!
Frankenstein is back!!!
Frank, I love Frank.
Takes measurements
all thermal attenuations
interhemispheric displacements
earthward sense datum.
Stomach of essence
on points
at qualms
in belly of engram.
Frank bows
says out loud
always something
of an innocents insubordination
throwing shadow after pangs
that flutter and bet
with love and death.
Says patch an eye
over mackerel sky
like whats at stake
in a Vampires breadth.
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