Wednesday, March 2, 2011


fussing the silver brooch
of its face the spiragraphical
wobble how pendulums
find a stylus to scribble atop
their mushroom caps

documents a meander of the middlesome
where any

the film's gone pink
but the windowshades still hold
their paisley's own

dark grey bedroom
to house anything like large
nugget of turquoise set up
and hanging from the wall

Bob Roger to hang her fake eyelash
like a moustache
in a cranny of gleefully goitered inkies
funny fangle of zigzag headband

funny fangle of an alcoholic's
aquamarine nose mess
dark grey
naked mornings
its single body
an oven of harmony

do you have any facial tattoos?
what is it on about that for?
Papuans? Ladies eyebrows, silly.

up from country kitchens
into observatories
of shaggedout afrobustly ferns

a raccoon's tail
hung from the bullseye
of wonky cricket mandala

bluish and flayed pots
with crusts of tope crumbs
once continents for cheeky cacti phalli

empty glass boxes
of butterflies

a prairie dog skeleton
some hippie's painted with glitter
and flittied up with tawdry bits
tie-dyed alpaca
or somesuch

whose head is that
peeking out of the old fountain?