Friday, February 10, 2006

A WISCONSIN POEM

so docile the trend, a pill
untaken, stop them from murdering gays,

"arcanum"
made this pulse
with deep historical resonance

a splatter of plant gut
into the opponent, so plough up the road,

nevernomore gotta
whole 'nother
where they got it from
nope it's enough, yeah?

property of spine-chilling horror
gave us this tantric biscuit to suck on
Argos retreats! It's that kind of thing

that makes us more meaty, a little
more crosseyed, and appreciably stylish
in the coiffure.

He says he's not going to stop them.
Who will drink of the scurfy tide
of propositional attitudes, voted
meaninglessly in like pate?

"Me! Me!"
cry the Bozoid thinkers
in the land of boneless ham,
rallying for the "downsize
me out and defend the sanctity" package.

It's electrostatic perm season! The apes
abundant in four-thousand year hangover, an
overdeveloped sense of danger rotting in the
gene pool
Pulpy discourse fills
the space where frequencies
are worth millions

Very, very often

tree w/sequin leaves, alternating
novelty and threat

shoes seem less hyped
w/closed ear

racist because fucking idiot
aha! clunkety-

the age of fortunes
in parking, rattling pearls
in the cold, froth on the mouth
as imitation cattle

aroma b/c outsourced

Billy Collins in coitus on jacket?
They prefer this to the legality of the anus.
Figures. Slush breaks up the light.
In Associated Bank, my name refers to $3.92,
I recognizes Bonaparte. Popular liberal moms
push everyone named "Jackson" south amidst
malls. Shadow the capital.

dumpy torpor calls in the season or the guard
neutral unless subsidized a crane in eliot
haircut endeavor eggs on news grasp eludes
meningitis comes slow if it comes to blows
amateur night at the carved species breast
theory of aspartame theory bombs at conference
haven't decided shrubs go back and forth ok?
laboratory signals ok crust ok view and now
washy-washy brings out the best in death

crab lake water more shoes
isn't going to like motoreconomics
very enzyme occultation, nourishing
very small farmers squeaky monosyllables aim to

sham nudist arcs
toward questionable conclusions
earmarked
for waged demise
somebody explains:
"you're less than ten percent"
scattered their seeds
clung at sleeve
in season
with the prey
at hand
quiet for
once

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