Blood gets transfused into my veinsFrom a bag which from the ceiling hangs;Some pipettes from the bottom runLike legs with someone else’s blood. So the maroon cephalopodFloats from the pole it’s fastened on;Staved by a hook, it makes a squid,Who slowly bleeds out drip by drip;I lay below the drying fishOf plastic bag with blood in it. What is blood, but such basic stuff,But blood’s … Continue reading Bubonic Colonic by Zeke Greenwald