Friday, September 08, 2006

Knuckle Patch


Quit the gamesmanship. Orbit
Right to noon in her fluffy dress

And cameo flowers
From some other planet’s cool season

Stem a flatulent outburst
With hard knuckles to the temple,

One shame begets a tanning bed
The organ in the meat shadow

Operate the desk-toe and in-grow
Some mulched despair, what needs

Stomping for radio beams, advertisements
Or stooge parade dreams.

Lounge me another one, Brittany,
Make it an afternoon of bloomings.


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