hark
in the unseen distance
a lone police siren
and then the neighbor's hound
to answer
more balefully, comparisoned,
like an old man's face
to the body of a wren
and in the foreground some
nonesuch, the blind sad cat
of 18 years, padding,
circles its modern and
igloo-like loo, paw
finally arriving at the hole
to go in and make a piss.
and the kindle is dead,
its reboot screen frozen,
a childe beneath a tree
with no progression bar
and then sweet amazon support;
your new kindle shall arrive
some 2 days hence
and to use its container
for the casket of the former
please (recycle)
I am a smoldering pile,
and take most of my finest pleasures
from exotic Japanese pickles (not words)
and nude nights with my old girl
and colors gone mad
in octopi gorgon architecture
and like Don Juan
I am become a luminous egg
on night's black monolith barque
crossing this slithering bridge
unto deep beat unknowns
the faceless thronahumm
of Zyzzavir's:
"I see pink flies
thick around
the amber skeleton."
