Sunday, September 23, 2012

Waking Up in the Arms of the Terrible Gourmand

"Life is a Journey" (through Boonville and Garibaldi)

labile the okra pickle jeff smithed
this yellow positronic oghre powder blossom
into ingots boy snow white

camembert the antenna weasles nick nack clocks
suck slow the cringing lung bed's bottoms up
tipsy salamanduH
Cronkite Coupling Kraken
to miniseries Tarzan Hills of Music Hummus

The Hills are alive with the sound of mucous
theyve been alive for 6 billion years
Jeff Smith is alive like an okra pickle
and Cronkite is there in a silver wiiiiiig

labile the okra police witch shoe
curled crooked totem streets we wander
like cowboys and indians in the streets of old bombay
its streets are the face of witchypoo

jeff smith thuggees
pouring from the walter krunkite kraken beard of carhonking sounds
antenna weasle turbans

your exterior lung pouches look kissed by a tattoo of kufic spaghetti embroidery
i have eaten much salsa in the knight
and vesuvio be thy rectum's positronic pickle ogre blossom
of Barsoom

Green spider boar police captain Jeff Smith
arrrest this little John Cronkite Nemo of Sleepy town miniseries:

Sleepy Brown Mimisirius:

Little Russel the leader
we are writing
we pray for Ron Silliman who turns to look at JF Sebastion Smith

Why don't wear Cremieux, Jeff, says Ron
Kraken Cronkite The Hills are alive with frugal molestors
Clara Clairvoyant comms a station ten to 4
in the shadow
leave Jeff Smith at the door
walt talk rough gimme talk

have you any ripe buguy shoe now
labby yogi means stand
the cover stinks

green spider boar kraken hannah says Ron
Mimiseries to the stars

Jeff says Ron
"Cremieux" master

pink scotsman
we are laid in the rosary isle
soft glimmers of wan guitars
shafts of light that beckon
to the Promethean grotto

all Mamluk is the saucer silver that receives
the salsa kraken of Seattle

I stood outside lookng down
Peogeot bay

one lone single bird
this outcast cast of thousands

Hannah pink scotsman overnight shipping fast
to Kraken island
Kong sipping espresso listening to sweet georgia brown

This hut is my hut
this hut is your hut
from the Cremieux islands
to the NY stock check
to the ogre Vatos
to hills of music

This hut was made for human bees.

and a spiral on the saltflats

O go ye homage to gadgets
go forth to polygonia
to richtig
and curtsy

and take that AT&T black spaghetti medusa herm totem router with you!

i retire to velvet coccoons upon the brink of stars

this glittering diamond zipper
this cool black nightengale
who swoons in bristled chromatic fevers

in this world i dreamed i was a geode

Edgar Allen Poesy