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Sam Stuckey

 

I want to open up the underside of all animals. The piles of muck and guts
piled in pillars that when they struck the, got stuck to the sky. Pretty pink
parts of a hippo's heart mashed in, under, and around the putrid purple lengths
of goat shanks and pot belly pig pots. All the opened beasts I took atop a
tank to catch their bits and parts. I took the tank of tails and entrails
that gathered at the bottom and laughed like I couldn't remember my name or face or
pain. Squishing sounds and smells like soup made of rotten hounds swishing and
turning against my feet as I danced and squeaked and shook and smiled. What a
day. What a day it is today. A feast for only fun and playing, not to eat but
to smash beneath my feet until my foot finds hoof. My problems just ooze out
in a mess of matter made of mauled mice and cats and rats and rivers of blood
from a blood hound and all manner of beast. Now I dive on down and sink in
deep and swim down and down as deep as I wish to go. Down and lower I see my
past pets and lions and birds that poured their precious parts apart to make
this park where I play. Today is too good a day to do to the day what the day
today would do today, today. I've a place, so ill play.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790