Poetry, or Jed Pearl.

"The Cape of Good Hope."


intertwingling wrought iron cage cube gardens
within the sprawling fountain
the vizier hovers
clustered in an amorphous furniture
of cooing bulbs


JED PERL!


what dem poet!
what dem artist!
what dem flower!


you think that Yul Brynner
could smoke a cigarette
inside the tree that foams.


We already dug a princess
out of a big soap bar
and left the whole town sleeping


I cain't factor in all
the plugs and rubber balls,
the bad dreams about bats
and pulling myself up out of the well
on stubby elbow tusks


part tree!
part mexican wrestler!
part goofy nose!


only so fantastic
in a tin shed
where the romance
looks into the final pipe coal


all these crimson eggplants
gotta move like walloping babies
from out the ruby gem clam-shells!