magnet line

I been thinking about an invention
the magnetic table
you can place some nails in your bread
bake them right in
and then your bread will never leave the table
same with the plates and spoons and haddock and printemps du jour.

the challenge then is the soup.

hence we move on to the
gravity table.

I'm serious

eyes to the wall

look at that demons
skimming the surface with one eye good
and one eye walled up for good

I get you with a psuedo sort of a racket because
the tangles are magic and it takes long
for their arms to undamage them.

now you are here and I hook a monster
who moves a million mile an hour for
ever and ever and ever but never ever ever
moves.  Its the paradox
of he lost never did see or taste or touch
sturgeon or some pile of rocks

we could just presume away and all
but it ends at the dining room table.
the argument can not come hither forthright with any victim
but the stack of bones in the mouth

rebels of the north north country

sticks and stones make for great homes
pots and pans make for grand avenue police vans
to pour up the side streets looking
to hit off the red tee

salami, by Richy Straws

King Heron the Blue

has a head made for fishing frogs
and groaking in bogs
,
Is profitable like a seven headed hydra
wallowing in the muddy banks for the paisley shawl to deliver
a load of buttered bread around the bend.

Said well, said the Macbeth of a Swallow, who being wing-ed
was flung high in the wind on a breath of feathers, whilst everywhere there bustled about
a rush of dandylion fluff

My my my that turtle there in the water on a log in the water half
submarine sandich half willow of over the hill,
looks an overbit done, dry and old like a tortoise.  Maybe
Maybe its old Turtle Gudenov
A Turtle Tsar, how bizzare
one of those things, those rare occurrences of the natural world one knows about
but never really shows up at
the right time to tell at all

Cart of Wheels

A big green truck
is no match for a big blue truck
if the blue truck is carrying more wheels. 

I had shad

I had shad
I was washing
I was wishing I was washing shad

I have shave
I was washing my face
as I was washing was I wishing I was washing shad
while was I washing my face

I was shaving as I scale a shad
for sure

first days

posted on the pillar uphill
of a society in waking
the morning sun sings a sad philosophy in song
and the birds sing along

mayday

flowers are passing the turing test
rainddrops are passing the speed of sounds
like bees bustling

hang on dopplar

polar navigator hang gliding on finger nail platters
eating dishes of peaches with cans of cobras

fluoring and rhododendron drones hang about, looking for laos and cats lost
in the trees.  they bring ladders and panthers to take their place in the annals of the holy babble.

 

355

mylar baboons floating high in the atmosphere
dripping west with condensate passing jets
in the tropic of canada, orange juice soaked toast
for breakfast and the rest of useless sets sit resting on the
chester arthur penning a novel of best of best  of best of beasts of burden
balancing an act of soapy suds on their trials and tribulations, flexible    phlyers
falling off the rafters after spring showers bring pilgrims with bonnets in their hair towers