minor ch

till tomorrow sits up and obviates, a miniature dinosaur ravages the back lawn, the need for sleeping companions has disappeared. calamity is a billboard you've learned to ignore, not because of its ubiquity, but because it advertises a product you have no need for. or the need for beehives, which pinches the corners where the walls meet the ceiling hard enough to globe the room. shambolic. alka seltzer or a bromide.

the miniscus of the pony keg

as though monkeys pulled the strings
a serpent walks the sidwalks of aqua.

no, there certainly is no euphony in
this statement or truth for all that

pissing away. there are many methods
and suicide is merely the least redemptive.

sure, I’ve thought it. but blinking and
blinking sounds shrill. think it through.

enough to calibrate a certainty or santa
coming several times a year. blade

of grass. wide and green. lemonade.
she’s sitting in the hot seat and frankie’s

got the swiftest arm in the joint. probably
she will be soaking wet by the true a.m.

i want to be able to be in a room with
anyone. but there’s a but. and a sure-

fire high-wire tragedy seeps into the
imagination of every girl and boy.