a bongo is slow in the meadow
like warpaint flows from the faucet,
the thing is, the thing is,
as every director knows,
pink armadillos taste like
green felt origami
green igloo
with frankenstein
eskimo
grass stains
on walrus tusk
armoires
we ride the seals all day
Solomon the king of all
with four wheel drive
demon nancy bongo
and daisy, the
thing is, the thing is
this,
Sid and Marty Krofft
and Paul Butterfield
are speaking in low tones
about that song
"Do you believe in miracles?"
and now there are three
equally
spaced
dead
stinkbugs
on my windosill
as if nature itself
were heraldry
Pentatomoidea
the shield no longer
squirms
as if every still-life
contained some ineffable
emblem
unfuckable
unfrazzled
horneblende
yoked to hypabyssal
a porcupine manta-ray
flies like a bat
in a top-hat
wearing a
cravat..
Solemn ownership
overseers
the odget
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this is giving me hives and pleasant jives.
ReplyDeleteLanny,
ReplyDeleteThe thing is is, the thing is,
I go away for a while,
I nearly die,
but I don't die,
and then I come back,
and it's unbelievable,
nothing has changed,
LQ is still the best poet in America,
there is still one poet left in America,
this is a reason to go on living until morning.
"Do you believe in miracles?"
and now there are three
equally
spaced
dead
stinkbugs
on my windosill
as if nature itself
were heraldry"
That's just, like, wicked good.
Reading such things, I am (almost) tempted to think, for a moment, that America is actually a country with a culture, like say, I don't know, Thailand?
Must be an illusion, but still -- good.
(word verification == "coaddle")
I am lucky to have my Toms.
ReplyDeleteYes I am.
And I will try to improve.