laser franks kitty

collins hollered

a lion-faced onion

 

with batting phenom scott scuffs

good morning everyone I’m scott

 

and here’s how you hit the ball to the other side of the parking lot

 

canned knee

right there in the can

 

a knee

in sauce

 

looks good to me

blee blum blum num

 

thirty cans of soup in the cupboard

I can’t stop counting them

and then I’ll eat one and have to start all over again

 

microghost leads the microway

 

move thru the wall like a pharoah

is ann the lark one of these too?

 

what good does that do for poetry pages?

future jargon like blah oughta blee blaw

 

roostersnot

 

the symptoms of the system are crawling up and down your shine

releasing the cannibals into the population would result in a rainbow of meat

 

dream about the nikes

mr. tree is wondering why we haven’t

 

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ghost tree in socks

 

you were talking about the rabbit who created the world

you make the knuckle face on magic george washington’s birthday

 

ghost is a cook

now eat some ghost food and see what it’s like

 

and earth gulps it down, friend

 

look for me in the room tonight

I will be the one blinking and beeping

 

with the broken machine parts littering the ground all over the morning

the giants walked into our realm and stole our technology and ate all of our wafers

 

is yellow another blue, but inside out?

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stark’s white toast makes for a good meal with a little meat or beans

 

to set the iron fables upon the highest name

energy bars like mars

 

water was the green light and it flowed down to us in the canyon

hark wadder that ladder

 

spotted like a leopard going around the corner to eat the people wearing only fox socks

a new earth would have been built for it to be seen when kissing clowns

 

dialectic gossamer

I see dr. doom in the tree

 

a shark taco for you

I will have like 100

 

on the last earth we know of

live the caterpillar people with the spiny spines

 

the lard of the heavens

 

london: this is the elf of the prawn sandwich

 

hard-hipping lemon is the lee

 

and when bugs are the deep and dry

 

to hear that bear is the clump

 

when I was the lock of the loving head

 

the old bridge and that caring face

 

I was the favorite of the cooling

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. More than 1,500 of his poems have appeared in many small press publications, in print and online. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado.

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