Thursday, October 15, 2009

The Dully Wadding Season.

Do they chow an immortal chow, those caterpillar chow dogs
which throng in here? If only I could find a replica, or even
a promotional 1-off of an over-sized water bottle, I collect
those things. For years, I had a plastic hatchet which was about
5x its normal size, but everything is weird here. Criticism
no longer functions properly, words themselves are a kind
of tainted cheese one tries to make sense of because they
pervade the doll so utterly, but what an utterly noxious
product. Funny, yes. Heart-warming, of course, but laughing
just makes me bacteria-resistant and my heart is a weird
looking organ powered by a completely silent part of my
brain which looks like a mushroom, a cauliflower mushroom.
Those are goot to eat! I think a big chow dog worm
and an over-sized water bottle made into a kind of
cool shelter would be nice. Even as a painting:

A guy, alone, a rugged guy, rides a chow-dog
caterpillar with wrinkly skin out in the woods
carrying a very large empty plastic water bottle
as a tent. Very incongruous image, don't you think.

Maybe the guy, is a rugged version of Baudelaire,
or maybe he's like Ezra Pound crossed with Tzar Nicholas.
Maybe its just Tzar Nicholas. Yes, I like that, he isn't
a poet at all! He's a KING! Much better than a poet, I think
anyone would agree, even though a poet is a kind of King
of the page, or poem or line.

I don't however like the idea of a chow-dog butterfly.
No, Nicholas has a little hormone syringe kit that he
injects the chowterpillar with to keep it adolescent.

For it is in adolescence,
that the chow-dog-caterpillar
is most like Francisco Goya
holding a skull bong,
nude, in the armpit of a giant.

Instead of the word cigarette,
use limerick.

Say to the clerk,
"Gimme a pack of Limericks.."
They like that.

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Irrony Observes The Earthing.