mmcmxciv

Venetian or Tunisian?

I am such an idiot!
I don’t know why I forgot
That I am not a Cypriot.

mmcmxciii

Happy Snippets
(that survived the
general uproar)

“I was eating but I just got your message
 should we say goodnight soon?”


         “[worried, to himself] well, this definitely
          could be defined as hunger.
          ...
          I no make sentence pansied in proper pan skillet.”

“Oh, hey, which skillet? I myself am
 taking a break from the biting and chewing and
 swallowing to lie down in solidarity with
 food coma.  And play a game.”

          “You there?!  It’s your turn!”

“Deeeeeelicous!”

         “Delicious, yes.
          Didn’t you say you taste like bacon?
          Maybe?”

“I might have.
 Cuz I am a pig.
 And I love to eat them, too.
 Also, everybody knows that I am bacon’s
 number one fan.”

          “Why do I have a feeling that the more I know
           of you the more amazing I will realize you are?”

“You and me both [nervous laughter emoji]”

         “Understanding well that you strongly dislike
          pigeon’s buttholes, and given that I have
          nevertheless only known you now for [checks
          wristwatch] six months....”

“You sweet, sweet man!”

          “It looks great!”

“Uhhuh. It is incredibly hearty!”

         “Hearty...
          Sweet.
          Savory, actually.
          Stay safe!”

“Well, as for my something new, I am getting a large
 peach slushy.”

          “Yes, I could see that.”
 
“You are quite the experienced man, you know!”

          “And you, young whippersnapper, are a
           genius!”

“There’s a sentence with an obvious butt at the
 end of it.  Do proceed.”

          “Sweet dreams.”

“It is a dog eat dog world out there. You, too!”

mmcmxcii

Domination is damnation.

You each, we each,
Owe those we spite: enough
Love,
Freedom and
Equality for 1,000 lifetimes (and with a
Gouging
Regret).
Our apologies burn, oh blessèd
Emblem of our soaring, incomplete
Guilt.

mmcmxci

Matterings*

Stew too eerie?
Stew too bare?
Boo hoo leery!
Whom to wear?

I tip cars grooving, many hounds run and pout.
See birds more lauded cut my salve, um, the louts!
“Matthew be guy.” At last it has been said.
Sue took a pee. The mastiffs scour, bend to laze.
Hitchhiker’s stealing cats? Depends. Under age?
Kento be lies. Do men sow what they bleed?

Butter curds, more! Minoan isn’t many. Four?
Gunther heard more. The dom he, no gun, glistens.
Hot mustard for Ben (moan!) pissing (whizz!).
To muse walking that mall.
Blue shoes, no stockings that’s all.

*to be sung to the tune of “Words” by Missing Persons

mmcmxc

The Village’s Idiot

If you can film it, it’s not real, just so you know.
                                                  —Carrie Fischer

livid mousse
entrapped
upon the

concrete
sphere / it’s
been ass

essed that
justice is
only just

but thru the
looking glass,
you see

/ not
tonight to
ward off

all the
schools —
in bluest

tooth to
winnow
all but

the hoop
iest loop
iest min

now the
house :
the zaf

tigest
whaliest
goof of

a house /
a sub
species

all of its
self / it feigns
pains to plan

the plan
that’ll — men
acing — soon

be panned /
because only
the pomp

ous know
the ult
imate traj

ectory of
the snap
of the pan

orama that
is shot /
but oof! /

alas, it lands
but / ouch! /
a smidge to

the south
and beyond
the pond

erosa and its
yet not pet
rified inhab

itants / who
were only
just about

to send their
annual school
of papooses off

to ponderosa
kindergarten /
because papa

ooses are a
sign that you 
are a papa, you

see or do not
see / but soon
instead its den

izens are frantic,
fanning poose
less flames for

life (as zip!
they make like
vacuees and flee!) —

resembling most
the dangling fat
flat-screen tee

vees each once
decreed a home
— and I do mean

verily! mean 

while the floof
amid the roiling

boom kaboom
that sent his
whizzbang bowl

ing ball a-whistle /
he sees it whiz
right thru the soon

burnt forest only
to land / alas!
just south and

past the pond
erosa / never
the less sending

its scurried
swath of
habitants

and their
swiftly
scooped

papooses fran
tically into
the now burnt

forest / but
at the house
of the fanged

and grim
aced floop,
said ploop —

with purse
less lipless
lips reminiscent

of poop ... /
... removes
its ghostish

eye of mottled
head from scope —
looks yonder

to the other
livid side of
the livelong

room — to
wards its conic
onlookers —

who’ve all but
not yet un-lived
in this expanse-

expense- ive
room each
once called

living / they
tick-guffaw
like purloined

hearth-ridden
seahorses soon
enflamed : a life

less opera once a
wash in well-ton
icked follicules . . .

mmcmlxxxix

Huh? Huh!


I love language

and linguine!

....Ooh!  Lasagne!

mmcmlxxxviii

butt butt buttAH!*

     i know u r butt whut um i?
                 —attributed to a mr. u. r. butt (whose biography is otherwise bare)

scuttlebutt
buttscotcher
beach butt

nutterbutt
butterboat
butch butt

butt much?
ball butter
butt baller

butt breast
boxbutter
butt cruncher

easy butt
peasy butt
butt blotter

robot butt
butt robuste
butts or bust!

*that’s of course a chicken butt