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Crushed lamb
Living Lapvona Bull run in Pamplona in runners Sorry, mate, that’s a bummer I can bumrush I can run away faster than any security-afraid teenage skater Silk in my pockets like I robbed the best stock during the panty raid Raiding the pantry of a Goddess, trying to find the seeds for fame Trying to…
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Young and dead
Dressed up, dolled up like a clown whose wont is to be probed All manner of seedy beastliness kept hush by a few, who know. Now I know how Simeoisios felt Svelte and fleet, a dancer’s feet, keen. Dead now, no more will be seen Tell the bees Only yesterday it seemed He weaned from…
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The worst clown
To quilt mourning feelings he drinks all morning and day, to scant reprieve. Until, ‘twixt lycan and labrador, dusk of day, he ill became. Old sick stains on his wipe away sleeve top Fret not, it’s invisible beneath his polkadot livery Feeling liver-y Greening pallor, sweat gleaming Swaying though still Steaming from the swill, believing…
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Funeral winds
Harsh, sermon-shushing winds blew baleful regattas on His funeral day. With winsome Sherman demonspeed winnowed in off the coast, Like an invading host, to harry us and hoar his untarrying ghost, Before his in-chariot carrion could be carried to the flensing garret; That wind hit harder than a chartered stepdad after a few jars. Marshy…
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Dewigging a pretender
Before cackling dukes fancy in gaudy nouveau-riche fashions None of the aesthetic appreciation we might presume of lofty station Sneerers new to the peerage Whose recently banded fingers stink still of bandit hill and poteen still.
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Alchemisland 