Monday, July 29, 2013

Bunkhouse Code Ruins




odd bunk house cues
the horse soul so mute the canter
oft to feet thick flannel or wool
the buckskin to subside the sunset
fringe hod hot shed
our manacle we warmed over beans
two touch
to totu faun
the feather full of mites our dream ladder constable
that careful opera using prosthetic helium bladder sombrero
towards its unimpeachable coffee

logs
hard brown logs cut from open ended cloud
boots railing
split rails
deer standing up for the photo
the coat of arms
now diorama town
including all the members and the exiled
including all of the miners and the drovers
the bunk house cadre' would lift up
big red fathers to cover their bird deed

red feather masques
and well crafted
HUMU sayeth
donkey sitar saddlebag gems
take the poor tiny little mermaids
and bring them in from the sun
their heaving chests would tale a teakettle's
ound hoon limb stretched

four drovers beached before a herm of blue almond skins
in the deep recession of winter
its shoulders an anvil stretched wide with red heat
and turned to a collar like a fork
and there a shelf
for fruit like puns

soft sweet tiny little claws
that go hooting around beside the bedrolls
where the wooden parrots
take their claret constitutional
the ink wane sun high flamingo of its voices
the teepees camouflaged in the valley
and the giggling ghosts which flee over
twisting mountain passages
back to their elastic frothing bells
on
the dinner chime triangle
at Delphi
hangs a thin blue snake feather
quill
buster