Stole Home Sweet Silver Dollar Moons

Fell asleep to dragon song,

Red-eyed devil boy sang,

Guitars churned mosquitos long,

Sucked blood from daisy chain,

Silo stacks down deep Illinois,

Bullfrog riot song swamp,

That red- eyed devil boy loved his noise,

Wailed his storms out front,

In the freight train of lost double time,

Watched the stars swim in swirls,

Strung stereo shoes on their laundry line,

While giant moths circled his girls,

Stole home sweet silver dollar moons,

Those wolves kept their fingers tied,

Green bullheads in the river jumped,

When the red-eyed devil boy died,

The hill-jacks approached the grounds of death,

Motorcycles roared,

Tore up the graveyard grounds, smoked meth,

& ripped that devil boy’s whores.

Sweet Potato Muscle Shoals Child

The giant ball of fire, her man, a statue of Goliath, projecting,

Enunciating each and every syllable, white gold rolls off his tongue,

No, he can go no further with her as a project, not her,

She walks free now the streets of her loneliness, her disdain,

Reading the Wellesley girl’s stuff in the wee-wee hours,

Not taking calls; not entertaining any thoughts but this one:

How could she have not given her entire soul to him,

The fifty-foot ape atop the worlds’ tallest building,

She builds her wall with his enormous bricks now,

It’s her, she says, not him, not Godzilla-On-Tokyo,

He is not to blame for her inadequacies, her failings,

Not that she really had any, from outside looking in,

She bore qualities few others could ever attain, yet,

To her, he gave no chance to explore: Captain Cook spread the flu,

The outer limits, the far sides of the world, the shooting gallery,

And time always seems to stand still for a Titan on its journey,

Gods of war shoot arrows at her heart each hour on cue,

The giant holds her heart in his hand, outstretched and steady,

And all that remains of her charity, her hand, is servitude,

Her compulsive thoughts of his Thor, his Olivier, his Il Duce,

Show her, upon demand, that thumping throbbing pump,

As he smiles, embracing the magpie of youth, and squeezes,

Enjoying her tears quench the strength of his vocal projection,

His gift of expression, blazing with feeling, though venomous.

Pretty Roses Sing Love Dreams

dearladyrosehexworth.jpg

The Waitress Of Catastrophe

The waitress of catastrophe,

Embellished her philosophy,

To charm her way through thick and thin,

To wrap her swaddled dumplings in,

To rave with rage at matricide,

To brave the naked countryside,

And slam the door in horror’s face,

And scrub the floors at Smokey’s Place,

And save the whales washed on the beach,

And sleep with men when out of reach,

From goodness knows where her bums came,

From taverns smelly and seldom sane,

From savior types to misogynists,

From petty thieves to philanthropists,

They showed her tricks and she slept with them,

They bought her drinks and she slept with them,

They put her down and she slept with them,

They slapped her around and we ran from them.

Two Rabbits Of The North Woods Watch

Two rabbits of the north woods watch,
A giant pacing through,
They know not of the tickle notch,
Which haunts his mind like brew,

The tickle notch he’s seen before,
It made his manhood grow,
And ever since from hill to shore,
He ever seeks to know,

His eyes compare the way they walk,
Amenities unfold,
They call his quest a naughty stalk,
Of tickle notches bold,

The rabbits don’t know why he tries,
So hard to find what they,
Indulge in as the sparrow flies,
And do most every day.

Play Only Love Songs Of Disbanded Bands

Gain notoriety by inspiring,

A glorious riot of angel bells,

Aloft over a winding Easter parade,

Colonize the peasantry’s time do they,

While they wear starch white collars do they,

Revisiting otherwise reserved simmered chums,

For cactus blooms fully in care of their Mums,

Though beachfront diameters never cease wondering,

Clutching their foreheads in awesome skull pondering,

Natural full-lipped thoughts slither incredibly dumb,

Meanwhile decision-faces ponder moments while numb,

Absolved each morning by a white dove in little girl hands,

Which play only love songs of disbanded bands,

 

One Child Survived Exposure

Rows of low mirrors near bowls of pink pills,

A dozen shoe mirrors lined gilded hemp hills,

Girls ill-obsessed with tangerine bruises,

Where each blotch of blue hides how she chooses,

When splintered light copper shined hardwood floors,

Town folks said she left children outdoors,

One of them sobbed sweet piglets asleep,

She feared her own dreams where travelers creep,

Quaintly made haste to fictional places,

Never laid longitudinal aces,

Where masses buried in single stone ground,

Sang lullabies to sweet children not found,

Dreaming of fairies with eyelashes curled,

Drifted away to the ends of the world.

 

And Would Remain There The Rest Of Her Life

One was a maid in a house near a peak,

One was a nurse with a bird that could speak,

One moved to Berkley and took a new wife,

And would remain there the rest of her life,

One was a mouse with her hair turning grey,

One, an ape, smoked bananas all day,

One went psycho in wells of deep strife,

And would remain there the rest of her life,

One was in torment and not tickled pink,

One played The Doors and started to drink,

One killed a rapist with a serrated knife,

And would remain there the rest of her life,

One was a doctor in love with a nun,

One was a gangster who shot a hot gun,

One took her clothes off and blew on a fife,

And would remain there the rest of her life.

That Sparkling Girl, The Cylindrical Harp

Through a gate in a granite wall at night,

Through clouds of steam and gusts of wind,

To a party filled with thrilling people I walked,

The lights of a mansion ablaze across a field in fog,

An immense colonial with white planks & black shutters,

To a party filled with exciting people I walked,

With work hours behind me and time to play,

Approaching divided circles and clumps,

In that beige two-piece suit I wore,

A tiny lion of a dog chased my legs,

Beige blended poorly with my olive skin,

My broken nose and hockey teeth…

To a party filled with thrilling people I walked,

Someone called me over to a glass top patio table,

A seven-footer handed me a musical instrument,

I had never seen anything like it,

It was an electric cylinder with twelve plastic strings,

He showed me with enormous hands how to select a key,

I plucked its strings and then this…

Stunning short woman fell into my arms,

I couldn’t believe what she was wearing,

Her tight neon blue skirt shined sparkles outward,

I couldn’t get over the cute girl in my arms,

Her skirt had built-in catwalk strobe lights,

She wore a hat with a veil over tight hair,

I couldn’t get over that cute girl in my arms,

She told me she saw me before and she smiled,

She hugged me like she would never leave go,

I couldn’t get over that cute girl in my arms,

Her eye makeup was so very exotic,

I had never seen anything like it,

She told me she knew all about me,

She sat in my lap facing sideways,

She perfectly fit in my wings, on my legs,

She took off her hat and I kissed her hair,

When I asked her for her number she vanished,

I turned around to try to find her again,

I walked through a room inside the mansion,

There were sailboats on each side of me on this long hallway,

I turned around to try to find her again,

A toy train rolled on a rattling track through a large room,

A white pine stood undecorated in front of me,

I turned around but never found her again.

That sparkling girl, the cylindrical harp,

I will never get over that cute girl in my arms.