A wanton, foul, bee-pecked sage
light scream layed on bedouin stage

Lingered-in lines, absenting age
as his divided self grew worn

With supine shine he did freckly dote
on half-a-hungry greenback note

Unwashed her soiled bearskin coat
where his first full form was torn

It blew up fast his balloon score
a crone-sold rot for verbal core

He sat down first, a sanded bore
denied the East blown horn

Now empty while once complete
on filial feet so slappy sweet

His loose name showers down the street
and we’ve left that fur all shorn


An arid boy
Astir asleep
Aware alone
in breaking morn

A sunless day
the children’s son
shunted soon
in omen’s room

with hard routine
steady felled
obliged unseen
to be unheld

Awade in fools
Abused in mouth
A pared at heir
Annointed rune


Be a flake

(fallen off lids
a flake aflight

like kids

flaking snow
fast and fun

being a flake
like a fluke)

(But I am a flake

not an honest

but a faltering

cake frosting
bit of bake)