Jumbled Poetry Round-Up

Bookish

He climbs all the live-long day
Hauling himself up the cheesecake
And when he reaches the top
And stretches his rocksome bones
And his woody limbs and notes
And feels like he can yeah
And like he can yeah yeah
And feels like he-
He’s a regular guy
And he digs into the cheesecake
Groping with his regular hands
Feeling his bookish strength
Surge like he is ripping into
The top of the world.

4th of the 9th

Early September
They set scaffolding
Around the building,
So that it looks like
A large spider is
Squatting above us,
Stopping us from
Taking off into the sky.

Further down the road
Funghi are growing
Through the gaps
In the tarmac like
White bones forcing
Their way up to the
Early September air.

Congrats, Man

“Hey!
Congratulations on your… thing.”
And then he gave me the thumbs up.
“And you don’t know who it was?”
He was wearing a big cat mask – a
Lion or a tiger or a leopard or a jaguar
Or some other animal like that.
“You couldn’t see his face?”
No, he was wearing a big cat mask – a
Lion or a tiger or a leopard or a jaguar
Or some other animal like that.
“Still, she says, smiling and
Squeezing his arm, “it
Was sweet of him.”

Holiday

Eleven o’clock and overbiscuited,
Trash-slumped in my chair,
Sick like a pet dog belly.
Yesterday’s newsprint gathers
Like overbearing rock formations,
And outside is a billboard
Depicting the grim reaper
Above the line:
“Thinking Of Going On Holiday?”

Everything, And Nothing In Particular

It seems to me that lists of bones,
And bones are made of penny lists,
Are loose threads to become lost in
Lost in everything and nothing in
Just distractions like pennies and-
But I know I don’t communicate in
Anything but lists of bones and
Lists of pennies, penny bones,
Lost loose threads and threads,
Bones and bones and penny lists.

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