viii
What a tiny type of revenge
Who has said "this depends"
Is a sage among sagebrush
Heretofore saint-in-the-wind
Shunning curlicued sin
An amalgam of oatmeal and candle wax drops
Swank gamma gams single file
Is the afterthought mild
Or a rift in the britches?
How do you do do you do run amok
In a plain paper cup
Swim the cockles of every warm fussbudget heart
It's layers down
Cut from a clot lingering
With the right fingering
You can earth any hatchet
Domination: or, Pastry Shells
In a word, something smells
Half-alive among wrought-ironed, creme-tapered coughs
It's layers down
Bounds are the brains behind brackettish muscatel
Threnodal tolls on a bluish, disjointed bell
Lost are the ways once entrenched like a Sharpei frown
Hardly worth noticing, borrowed and dumb, driven down
Hellish with a can of spray piss
Without one shaft amiss
"And how should…” — it is messy
Many raveled ends dot the fire
Positrons have perspired
All the arcs loop again with that same studded grace
It's layers down
© 1994 John Brocato
Who has said "this depends"
Is a sage among sagebrush
Heretofore saint-in-the-wind
Shunning curlicued sin
An amalgam of oatmeal and candle wax drops
Swank gamma gams single file
Is the afterthought mild
Or a rift in the britches?
How do you do do you do run amok
In a plain paper cup
Swim the cockles of every warm fussbudget heart
It's layers down
Cut from a clot lingering
With the right fingering
You can earth any hatchet
Domination: or, Pastry Shells
In a word, something smells
Half-alive among wrought-ironed, creme-tapered coughs
It's layers down
Bounds are the brains behind brackettish muscatel
Threnodal tolls on a bluish, disjointed bell
Lost are the ways once entrenched like a Sharpei frown
Hardly worth noticing, borrowed and dumb, driven down
Hellish with a can of spray piss
Without one shaft amiss
"And how should…” — it is messy
Many raveled ends dot the fire
Positrons have perspired
All the arcs loop again with that same studded grace
It's layers down
© 1994 John Brocato