Wednesday, June 03, 2020

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 

the 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 

sign if I can’t,
too, you either 

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 . . .