f-hound

Buckeye
   (with Sam Kaufman)
 
after the bomb drop and stained with the news
                                                                wheeling east to green mountains and blues
                                                                                                                       
the roadkill masses, sings, and re-deploys                 
       you breathed real scary but were only breathing
 
                                                                                                    thin-walled morning
           stalking “miles, money, hometime” honey:  a bee’s pretty penance
 
& has each bite become a kind of self-embalming?
            the sweet delight of the night light, hopelessly faint…
 
                                                                a wildfire BBQ across the chicken-fried plain
                                                        (hoppy, poppy, put that jaeger bomb away)
 
a foreigner’s lusty eyes surveyed the rusty skies and found it rude and bootyful                  
           but we just killed a butterfly (its wings went good on toast)
 
oh! ohio, how are you?
            buckeyed and bushy, big and broad
                                                                                                                     tall and long
                        what would it take to steak and shake you up?
                                 memories of french silk pie and nutbuster parfait?
  
( if you find this monument to be obscene,
            please call the cleaning contractor
                                                                          who is rassling roaches in the bible cellar )
                                                                                          THE LARD’S DECLARATION
                                                                   “occupy, occupy, occupy, till I come” 
                                                                                   drive smart ride safe
a street-sweeping dragon dreams a tailpipe suite  
 
… a story                                 
about smoke and marbles, steady whittling
junebug gasping
 
and CASH MONEY

for Richard P. Feynman

it’s about pleasures(laughs)
ticks and teats
lively bugs jitterbugs
bravery and worms
and grackles loved
in jamestown, n.y.
serenity and severity
a fool sallying forth
figuring sixty years
lousey lucky crazy
impossible to sum up

not for Richard P. Feynman

easy bake to a young boy’s queasy quake
john travolta’s volta vaults a thousand philomels
beautiful mover unbound aggregate
a handshake between her knees stuttering bufallo
irascible despite broken teeth, poor posture, syphilis
announces the daily truth must be amended
dermis a dermis (grant takes gladys under the lattice)
an unwashed horn caused most scent of flamenco!

still dew

(for a “fine man” after joe brainard)

into the woods wing pinned with dew you met your math donut pass the peacock on the rusted mini-van over the train tracks striped rainbow trout emaciated wearing fishnets and ferry tattoos switching rockers hotkid mantler cobra st. dirt st. picture book of romulan geology and take-out from el alsador bike locked to art hypnotist in christie pits with eulalia twerp and no can opener plays guitar a pure form and doodle, nut and noodle, fiasco two rooms away passion over reason i cried because i don’t believe in science or the real world the wind in the rush and milkweed tangle in the crook of a ginko by milk lake a musty monkey paw dank on your couch i fell asleep you made pear and blueberry pancakes better than yasi we drank under the table with an army of plastic paleolithics a cherry blue horn revival you drew and soothed me when my bedroom was full of furry feet and coats we shelled greek peanuts and ate butterscotch dipped soft scream windmill twists and licorice at the mapleleafs v the cobras or hornets our numb stinging thighs still for five with faye then to the dock to watch duck butts bobbing killer loop of cowboys singing killing sheep haven’t slept a wink early bird gets to hold it your perfect pee at niagara fall wipe out first you then me then me again not even riding home from shiloh’s open bar the pink of a twelve nippled sasquatch sipping whisky in front of letters blurps and shreaks sliding down the gulley all fours locked you gave me a flower 3 times three nine different flowers different times after the rain we didn’t come out as we expected