cleaning up broken slates

strings sucked up
contained tornatos, denominae tomato
potato

cucumber spinach patch beans on a vine leafs all green

summers almost here
but its still snowing!


clean clean clean

Blood Orange Sanguine

shall we write a satire
an ovre to the tamales in the oven
lost pieces, critical ingredients found steaming or hard baked
loaves no longer edible, chocolate chip cookies
with chipped teeth, lettuce with human heads
cabbage as a testament to the power of education and
a founding principle we found as an insert
in the big book God's big book, "How to cooke like Captain Cook"

on page one I ate the ink and on page two I drank the pulp
puking it all up in a puddle by the plinth in the corner
the dessert was even worst, it was Dodo Yodo Yogurt
and the recipe called for fresh 1-year Dodo fed exclusively with rice
(where am I even supposed to get Yogurt anyway??)

Here we be, hungry floating in an endless sea
the sun searing us, now rowing the oars with steaks for hands
mutton chop cheeks dripping saltwater brazing, marinaded
toes and feet in Cretaceous dreams
visions of sugar plum fairies dividing us, conquering us, vini vidi vicesglutonyangerennui

And the tub of a boat we wrote in our satire
it was sinking slowly in tandem with the Devonian sun, the middle
period, an eon it took, a lapping started to be followed by a chanting, the waves
wavering and hesitating to break and sink our sorry ship,
the cooke broke down and decided to hang before he'd drown, and but for we being
Christ-ians we did not relieve our fast on his fatty flesh and all lent(nopunintended) a hand
t
o
pass
h
i
s
body aft
before
it bloated and soared
farty and fast
to the left or right
heaven
a
t
l
a
s
t

driving in a fast car with tracy chapman

riding supernatural pathways in halftime
syncopath stays holding binge for days skylightings
bringing pangs and tinges dinger singes
patches of action
careening machines
wheels of steam fleeced beams bearing the age about to begin
baleen streaming the wind screams in your ears a seamless
rapture
the big bad wipers striking wet drop options off the windscreen
an endgame a concorde mach ten to lexington
we concourse the planet forming a endzone from endloaded
and mankind digs it from dead end to dead ahead its
realistic and feted.

whats is there thats left us unsaid?

Herns at the break of day

Herns at the break in the ice
discern their colored eyes
yellow with black spaces
hungry as the ducks diving opaque quests
under polar replicas, each one a metric
of spring arrived too late but too early all the same

SUPER MARCHE

Slooped by way of the Stoop
you stop to slip in slop drop
ass flat back smack blasted flattening as a pancake
building as in earthquake rotten verbotten
not gotten off scott free to see a plea deal
the feel an orange peel fill pneumatic wheel
no matter that seal, no fatter the seal, the badder the chill
the adder has gills swimming under the sills crym~ spills
and people eat their pills whilst the wind howls and howls and howls
how wow about your own outback subaru kungfu hairdo chopped and screwed
together with yellow lead its better brittle soft in the middle but dont fiddle
with it or wish it lost forever in a blanket of white soft leather
feathers fearless wheather we'd rather not have either.

making a snow man

making us laugh in
the jaws of a lion roaring in
ripping up our windy pants
hairs faces tissues even
blowing noses, eventually brains, all the starts in the cosmic
universe glittering around and on and on and on and on in tornatos
ankles obscured soon knees
feeling left behind in gloves burried fingers up to our arms
adrift on a cloud

HEATER CONTROLLER

FEDUNCT DEFUND
FECUND MUND PRETUND TO WORK
PREBEND PREREND READ: END

fee fie foe fum, I electrocute the blood of a
multicellular bum

Hail Hail Freedonia Land of the Brave and Free

"What was that little thing you called me?  Worm?, no, not worm, UPSTART!  yes, that was it! How dare you?  This means WAR!"

"And God forbid if any of the servicemen tries to shoot their own people, we will be standing behind them - not in front, but behind. Just let them try to shoot women and children!" 



-   Vladimir Putin née (Rufus T) Firefly

in god we trussed

cranes to see, to lift,
the bracket paragons a frame fits
fifty arm chairs above
 the pebbled roughs who walk stiff and puffed
limits on height a dragon wished
though never a bird parched up there there be


for far and few between I know
a black lattice horizon groans
spinning on bearings north and north
were standed at ease
in the burning breaze


lines descend to beyond earths crust
devils directions heave them up
hooks and chains in slo-mo whip
pythagoras as given in a book

 

blue christmas

I'll be having a blue Monday
Suede wings, wafting some smoke
steam
the city vents its frustration thats indivisibly polar
cloud factories one and all
choo-choo trains our gobs
marring glass vision with crystal prismisms