Like a Pickle I Dropped in the Dirt on a Saturday Past Caring Anymore

as dun or spy wd supposed


silly old men in rain coats
right this way, herr black window
herr obsidian coupling

hard amethyst cubes form the stepping stones
across a vast cauldron of indigo blue
a beast uses bird's feet on the lip
to stain wooden eggs
then eat them

the tall man leans over
smoking a cheroot through a complicated bottle

there are poetic diagrams of funiculars

funereal ichors of ars

fun! I see you, Lars!
fjord fjord ford and juice

model A
and THE TRIAL

i simply cannot save it
in the interest of american volume

painting a windmill
while listening to the Ramones

Joey Ramone
in wooden shoes

A zeppelin overhead like a lumpy grille,
ant tunnels are now giant tubes of helium.

ontology, whatever

porcelain light cone
emits radiant flush, the
skin wrinkles of his eye sockets
made a weird letter Y

Kruchenykh more my taste I guess
he discovers the startling opacity
of a blind bat's eye

and makes that a mustache
called ideology, aka idiontology

a six foot steel rod 4 inches in diameter travels the speed of
sound at 7 feet off the ground
for a while

then runs into various circumstances