Monday, April 20, 2009

matter of course

Hot buns rolled over my toes while I waited to cross main street. I clutched my throbbing foot hopping up and down on my one peg-leg. The ice cream truck flustered through traffic to put out the fire. A cone load of frosty coated my leg from a headlight and my hot toe melted right to the surface because the rest of my leg dissappeared from all the fuss. The big red toe glowed like a cherry bomb smoking over the sidewalk. It looked at me and peeled back the nail to say, "certainly there is buffet dining". The hot toe buzzed of at lightspeed to an all-you-can-eat. I invited a mailbox to swallow me which he obliged and later that week I was a mailorder birthday cake at the reception for a mailorder bride in Pennsylvania. I have lost a leg and been through the wash. My favorite part was when the mailman drove drunk on the golf course.

i hate clowns

Danny, no!
don't pop that black balloon
it's full of clown blood

maple moth

lakes of nothing
springing up all over town

a night-crazy pixie-bob
bicycle legs into an elliptical blur

at the bottom of the springtime
snow globe waving grain
in the greatest lung

a headphone sandwich
metal detector

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

open window

this knot takes a speckled wrench
i've puzzled over it in mouthfuls
writhing like a heavy slug
but my spirit wrapped the city in gold
now when i wake i shoot right out of bed
out of my ear through the window
to join the birds in song

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

glass jar

Take root. The levers are clenched as walnuts and the wrecking ball swing will knock you up. Bouquets of toothflower flood the clinic Tuesday. The waiting room. This way please. Novacaine pizza party but floss the dead milk bugs out. Spring cleaning. He was up a tree but should not have to be convinced of anything. Departures continue to be scheduled and disrupted as scheduled. City planners too vomit symmetrical bulbs in the median. Daffies pop in the sun trap. Thunder wags naked and shakes the dog free of pond water. Leeches breathe like accordions trolling blind in the shallows. That's why all the barking and the coffin full of clean socks. Burlesque in the parlor at four and ten to five.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Hank Archer's Private Eyes

These new binoculars have shown me the world already. It's tough and it's trouble. First thing this morning, I boiled eggs. There are naked dancers in the windows and jealous lovers creeping near every hedge. The neighborhood is full of shit and now I seen a murder. I packed my bags and left my landlady a note. It was a gloomy rattle down to Baltimore. From the train I saw jackals ring around the rosy. The conductor harumphed, then scraped his moustache with a thumbnail, "Next stop is black as coal and ashes to ashes they all fall down".

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Shung and Me

Shung's bandolier hung nervously across his chest. Shung Havrefred who was bandit, holy man and snake oil. Ode songs he swung through the sands in bags full of flowers and hair. Toothpicked grin, Shung was a happy hand at work. Hollowed a tree for a boat and scraped bark for tea. Shung was no fear. His gun stayed saddled. He had only to walk wide, leg to leg, feet pointed out, on his way through the woods and the desert and the mountains, and he brought me along.

plory flumage

flouridated wallpaper taffy kneaded endlessly by machine
loom wallpaper
shaky crystal doorknob
baseball cream owls
the golem
the golem
rock man astrology pops his rock head
rock and rock pop head
lorimer schermerhorn
hoyt schermerhead station
brown basket station
hot wantastiquet bread
rock baked basket and hand painted
cells simmering in color
in simmering color
somber quartz
cordoned oblong
bed rid
quarantined florida
helium torte
lawn dune
clucked his tongue

Thursday, April 9, 2009

cat nap


i filled a basin with hot water
soaked a seafoam washcloth for your headache
a spoonful of cloud puffs and
red clay to squeeze between your fingers
it's only in your head


it's a head full of hot clouds for to squeeze
your seafoam puffs between a soaked basin
and a washcloth red spoonful
of clay water fingers

Monday, April 6, 2009

festival of mirrors

seen by telescope, quite plainly, a muppet jacking off in an alley.
quite contrary, i do say. the captain coughed his eye out.
but do take note of the times; a slapped mollusk spent uptown
what jacks read in the roll
a ninety to one shot, dead on
wincing in the mulligan's bluff.
not unlike the thrush, spun on a root beer float... dead ahead!
not a moment later a tartan sipping cider through a twizzler off the starboard bough. call up the buckle boy. oh... sorry sir, the boson is pulping chives in a canyon of milk for the hors d'ouerves barrel bathhouse of the shoyu prefecture. A most important client. He's down in the galley and wont be stirred to comment for the likes of a couple squirty papparazos like myself or my camping bag sleepy head that is

Sunday, April 5, 2009

100 pubic hairs

colors of hair on your vagina
one hundred percent
red red orange read
white blonde pink red


you've been red flagged
4 doughnuts this week tripped the switch.
we noticed the way you take more than your share,
cut in line, and hog the comfortable chair.
we've made a note in the sand,
of course, you're welcome to blow it away
or make a sandwich from these blossoms if your ready for that too
but we've been watching us careful
i mean you
i mean i've been watching me careful
you have?
but wait
if it's me,
then why did i trespass
against myself?
poach from my own stock!
we don't know that
nobody knows everything
and you know even less

canady gose

flickering blue light on and off the pitched ceiling
and then the deep black silouhette of a dog
and the barking bark bark bark reverberating
in the pebbles on the street
porch, mailbox, coffee can full of nails
or snail shells wrung the purple barn
squeezed until the paint fell off onto the lawn
and made it a purple lawn
a lawn everyone called a crazy lawn
a patch of earth defiant

Friday, April 3, 2009


Barry "The Hatchet" Morley, Rio Hasick, and singing telegram Holly Bartnof do a sea shanty. They shanty away that burning sensation alright. Maria, (you just don't know what you're dealing with) we're in the belly of a whale here. Rafaela's still gotta lay some timbale tracks at Bongo SantaMonica, the engineer down there drinks a whole lot of Moxie pop and lives up to his reputation. He produced Tattooed Beat Messiah for Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction. Man, they were driving on some holy gasoline, burned the fucker down.