Wednesday, August 3, 2011


The hiss of windmills
is integral to the landscape –
radiation from an ancient pinball disaster.
The blackhearted orange
wrung from something squishy.

When nature calls, Kleenex
configures itself into an optical illusion.
Buying a Mars Bar and knitting its peel;
members of one shady fringe will
pour the dead tissue into a dumpster...

Elf Yourself sweatpants
the casserole wears as sacred aura.

We all stood watching aghast – as the
action figure flung glowing poop.

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