a smooth pen and a great new kind of artwork

dust from sweat, been so long
minneapolis airp

at dawn nothing can rise from the ground
what absolves you to be frilled and lazacious jug button?

clipped man from the neck down you beg be to fathom you
up up and away

unzip you via that unmentionable protrusion
but your thoughts linger
on a bundle of joy?

now i write surreptitiously
towering over denatured legs
unsure of next words until
there is spontaneous existence.

I am hopeless in the candidate search for a warm bed
jill of no trade—master of lome.

--- bang bang bang bang bang
fist to striated headboard
suckered round
split
and drag trough of belly
with hangover killing
evidenced by daikon and carrots
expiring in the yard. 

---

a smooth pen and a great new kind of artwork

There’s finally a child who addresses
the issue of irony 
vis-a-vis
literature in unreadable cursive.

It’s…
the new style. 
People have now discovered
that roundness appeases mylarism
and bucket-induced wounds.

And hopefully a new child 
will address the issue of asking for secrets
vis-a-vis
stick and hoop games.

I am two children who can’t play the piano on father’s orders. 
I am growing wearing of a callus in the couch and the onerous glow of sad light reactions.

---

Natural grocer gives away small plums in his backyard for FREE?

---

He is tired of fixing irony in socks and pants who were always there for him but never needed him.