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J.D. Nelson

Cinque poesie

 

would you like to be a pine cone of the knocking book?

 

I am the losing western doodle

I was the losing sock for too long

 

there are shapes in the rice

cass is the clone of the zoo

 

to call it salt of the day lake

to call it droop salad

 

seeking the butter realm in the clouds

I am the barking head

 

I include the meal of the self

we are here in the glass room

 

I was the toothing hand

I was the rice of the alphabet



 

frontier nerf

 

the machine of the glue

the ape of the premiere tape rocket

 

all of a sudden there was a paper wasp of the violin family

 

the bug of the hum

the wandering egg

 

busking for brains

a noun of the mouth

 

that heart of the boiling applesauce

the ham of the world’s egg

 

the green rope or rock

the mister rogers tax

 

the spiritual ice

a group of these machines

 

when I am the dust

when I am the burglar of one hundred wigs

 

and there was a news eye for the luggage

that crumb of the funneled truth



 

I was in the tree of the coupons

 

to nose a halo of the seen

to see the good mars

 

I ate a world of the peas

I was the abbot of the iron skulls

 

the turnkey isle is shaped like a lion

I stand with the friend of the face and I glow

 

the hair of the dollar to win a language

on the cheddar wall of the pink foam

 

use the lemon weapon

lose that measured ankle in the sky



 

the shape of the dark (there is a rabbit coin)

 

the worried eye of the language

I painted the wooden door with the natural sky

 

the journey of the mudbug is the central theme of the walking head

I’m wearing the raisin of the winter coat

 

I was in the winter when the light hit

the fluff is the science of the night

 

the language of the toast

to be the seated elephant

 

on the island of the coughing hand

I mention the lark in the scientific voice



 

manx apple pack

 

the pail of worms for the brain to shine

the sand of the cake

 

the cardinal’s name

the bouncing number of the lake

 

the pillow of the modern saint

conforming to the level of the paper ape

 

help to land the gravy

the nothing of mr. method

 

in the cave

in the lake



 

in the chamber of the lord

 

the life machine is a game of raking glass

it is powered by the bright, wandering sun

 

a pyramid of boxes

a feathered wolf

 

to lose the beard of the rose

 

to suit a feathered rock

the white apple of the glass

 

playing the thinking game

talking about the world is a rough sled



 

A friend of the Macabre from way back, J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poetry has appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His first full-length collection, In Ghostly Onehead, is slated for a 2021 release by mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press. His work has recently appeared in E·ratio, Otoliths, BlazeVOX, and Word For/Word. Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado.