"2" by Momo
two cats in repose, tails intertwined like the snakes of a caduceus, above them a ray of sunlight accentuates floating fur and dander.
cat with a banana soul
cat hang gliding to the hits
cat fantasizing about pushing me onto the subway tracks.
"3" by Momo
Another world of self-immolating reconfiguration breached past the blowhole and went full-on snout singing the black hole song. Imagine a game of whack-a-mole where all the moles pop up in tandem and stay too long. Dead plastic eyes. And the padded whacker you wield beats blankly over their stupid mole teeth. You back up and take stock of the game zone. All the machines are sinister and stupid and the paper tickets get you an oversized Tweety Bird filled with cancer. I mean, why did you even come here? I feel strangely alive.