Saturday, June 16, 2012

Due for New Colonies

Newt Gingrich smoking a cheeseburger is a certain business cancer like a womb of ferrets.  Interior, the pepperoni posse.  He blamed things.  The oaktree near the bottompond blackens alive with a murder, and the yellowing grass continues combing itself out with the wind and back straight into the closet.  A tire swing creaks like a knuckle with a shot breast, until a bear the size of a peony astonishes no one with his bongos.

A bird warmed its beaker like a banana
dipped in the glue of apparent bargains.
On Black Friday, the bees arrived and the
Birds made their chemistry set flame like fond dues.

Charliehorse-glue keeps friends loyal.
A raw vanilla deal
a mob of sleeves
honey chemistry napkin.
A feasible bagel of her face cries in the corner, illuminated by smartphones.  At once, the shout of honey meets moist in the rib's napkin.  I doubt it.  Doubt the illumination of honeyface.  I've sniffed glues better than all of this effortless joining together.

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