Sunday, May 21, 2017

Everything Else Can Be Replaced

I matter, made reef
imagination, but thought
 So, close, read thing until thing
really thing, allowed thing,
In matter of moment, each
Moment mater, now report all
Respect and report. Town floats over
Sea of Con sti tu
Tion. You read dat, town
Sized marvel.

Golf Cart With Saudi King

Martian Foam Poetry brashly estimates words as conjunctions with alleys, breathing space, and particle theory. A particle is essentially a whole. In Martian Foam Poetry, the beginning of a screed predicts versions of weather and inclement thought. Martian Foam Poetry reduces twinkle and inkling in the larger issue of tunesmith, vagary, and constant pressure from the wheat beers of our time. Martian Foam Poetry all aghast, strips clean the acting particles and resorts to non-equity players. This is your poetry, The Martian Foam Poets chuckle. This is not a carrot.

You Have No Flash Plug-In

It's all right today, the town is open. Trees remain elf-like with thoughts of tire tracks. The sun holds its own. The flight of the Magna Carta brings elegant news, bass drum. Find a perfect stone for your rain now. Elf-like bucket improves the idea of trees. Trees simplify the fancy clouds above.

Sunday, May 14, 2017

Spew This Entire Poem!


"I grew up in Kentucky. I know how they are,” spewed Lawrence. Spewed Lawrence, "I went to see something." Spewed Lawrence "A town of 807 people." And  responded town. "Ethics is a supernatural glow thing and I speak for the town made of renting," said the wall against Lawrence.

Radio On!

Alert students, produced
A hovercraft called
Love in extremis
Which
Can include
Faster miles an
Hour the
Quiet joys
Of
Us and all
Together
I got
Joy round my
Brain

music like the beginning of any day

And
On a hill. And
Once in a
While. And
Ripples
Of cunning.

A covenant, not
A President
Of sliding
Down.

Falling
Not the only
Feature
Of a hill.

Sunday, May 7, 2017

Cash for Visas Scheme

The place where the place is green. Green grass and trees bursting outward just so.

A language of contact.

President hated work.