reading daily report follies of follicly challenged naked apes playing spades and hearts

the skies were suited accordingly 
wise clouds in the morning, me 
and northward geese
had only ever wanted 
to make you laugh 
and smile even if 
for a fleeting moment 

(the, I want to be your dandelion wish, poem)

any contrail ads or thought derivatives 
based on bare armed desperate reach 
and where you go reading this 
will be venture capital-ized

I had to corner peer from the gauzily draped window to see anarchy had spread liver dead to an outside world waiting on crumble brigades...for the television had told us all morning the world would be ending with a doomsday edition of the newspaper full of the shooting executions of the unconscious souls masquerading as people and their scratch and sniff radio wonder children blended in...

('tis no small wonder why I stay inside most times)

I must have shit in the corner when drunk last night 
too lazy to want to make it to the bathroom 
Mondays are when I most often think my life stinks...

and whatever life one will be supposing  
has hoses for the infirmary and fires for when 
the forests and cities yearn 
to be burned down ash again rain...

we could be 
barefoot on the beach
yeah one set of footprints 
you carrying me 
I carrying you
you say to me 
to wet wrap
and document 
the erections...

erections...? 
I'm thinkin' why 
and what's with papier-mâché-ing other erections... 
I got my own thank you...
oh, you said elections...

I ponder and remember 
there are other membrane gathered 
long sea kelp swaying universes where they have 
these shirley jackson-esque lotteries 
these near ancient smooth bore rituals 
they've honed over millennia 
willingly eager participants and all...

here though, said articulate elliptical(s) 
would be reciprocal payment plans 
and probably patented 
for rights management profiteering 
by companies like ma's sandy toes...
in other words we'd need inducements...

meanwhile back inside the data stream 
every living seed is being sent 
to the dark side of the Moon 
one hears it stays cold enough there 
to suspend reason long enough 
to swear by any real estate prospecting 
to know every house has eyes 
a sill to pot and stage...



EJR ©