joe-joe the dog-faced wrog

one reading of
the morning
is that the occult
and likable fellow
one mister lady camembert
is sitting there again
oozing timeless castillo
rainbow soap eyelid lemurs
in that odd oval room
with water up to its knees
sitting at its stool
benchmark black iron cage kookoo
banging at the grand piano
alula ala spuria
saunter saws glistein
bu rattle rhee-thigh-moe
as if to be up all night
in the moon's balloon
is already some
stuffed ballot box's
removal

so that there in the stretched
hairless moonlight
the galactic moonlight
pulls up its covers
and rolls over

flooded
up to its crisp
brittle stem
in no longitude
no latitude
what narrow or
whide possibles grow
from the ankh ghoul game
with the bob ross bushbaby
eee teee
holding up its
proctologist's index finger
cellphone

electro static
goes through all the weird
language choral land
stark naked erect
language choral
sweet goofy morning
high complexity physics
toots its horn
and becomes
the day's cartoon