DICK PALACE 6

SEMEN

My wife has been pregnant 87 times. Several of our children are also pregnant. My toddler’s toddler’s skin is ripped in suture. Our bedroom is overflowing.

My teeth make me feel self-conscious. The hair around my anus is long as night. I might braid it for a bonnet, or wind a noose.

My stomach is spackled with McDonald’s.

When I ejaculate, my wife starts growing. She does not believe in dilly-dally. Her parents raised to become a raiser, as will our children be, as theirs: each one squirming with precision, gifted with such screech.

Sometimes she lets me on her teeth.

I am a father. I am a finder. Everything I find, I fuck. Every fuck I find I will remember by the gleaming of child grease.

Most days when I wake up I've forgotten. I walk around a while maybe whistling. Maybe I drink a little beer. Then I see a child and I think: Fuck. I think: Fuck fuck.

Our newest child was born with pubic hair. The hair was blonde and matted and so soft we used it for a pillow. If we cut the hair, it grew back a different color. The hair was growing very fast. By day two the hair had spread all up over his torso. By the third day he couldn’t breathe. By the fourth day we couldn’t find the fridge and were forced to eat the larvae that’d grown around us. By the fifth day we ate the child and shat him back to grease and obsolescence.

Still, the child could love itself. The child became a tonality lodged in the theme song of certain TV programs. The child had read most of Samuel Beckett.

I am afraid.

I am allowed to judge myself without you judging me for judging as long as I am judging myself at the same time as someone else.

This is the voice of no voice. I am not speaking.

I will ejaculate forever.