Triptych: Studies in the Anatomy of Draperies


For Francis Bacon

hail holy Francis
syllab of Bacon

sly butcher of the sacrosanct
in his seers portrait studio

pressed porky pontificates
into seedy sede vacante

squeezed vile rubber squeakies
at roped-off papas

until they screamed
apoplectic purple

begged for mercy
bleating meat mouths

sacramental sausage peep show
Peter Potemkin heads

exquisite caca cadavers
gory glo-o-o-ry ho-holes

¿por qué, puppet de la carne?

peinted holy see-through ponchos
shuddering L-dopa on the ropes


in this ecclesiastical corner,
the Pontiff Grand Prix X
aka Max Headroom

and in this schismic corner
(oh no, he's with a fish!)
Claudia Cardinale Sin

that's not Agent Cooper
in the sacramental Red Ruum
chasing his chasubled selves
behind spasming curtains

it's fabric fetishist/
head shrinker de Clérambault
snapping photos of the
scapular drapery with

Frank "Photo" Booth,
who demands his bourbon
("It's Daddy, you shithead!")
before he will pose for Blackglama®
(What Becomes A Legend Most?®)

The Anti-Cristo rides in on
a Roman Harlot Davidson
wraps the city in pigs' blankets

this little piggie went to Pontiac, Michigan
and this little pierogi had Blue Nun

Benedict XVI strikes
cum clave poses on the red carpet
for the paparazzi
(eukaryotic ministers)

HBO's Pay-Per-View
Papal Bull
Heavyweight Championship
is a TKO with the parishioners


channel 4's "F-word" show chef
Gordon Ramsay raises two pigs
like pets in his backyard to teach
his children where BLTs come from

he slaughters the pigs
then cooks

Pressed Belly of Pork with Caramelized Braeburn Apple Wedges

"fucking delicious"
he says

Ramsay has a kind of meaty face
the kind Francis would have liked to paint