Sunday, September 2, 2007

If a Jeep, My Wine-Eye

Boo down a road
There’s blood

in the water
Ropes in the cellar

Pork hinge on the road

Bacon bather
Take my forehead

Roll your big brown ide

Melt me
down your big love jeans

Don’t be Satan
and spread your lava-mead


Juicy inquiry
You saw my empty flesh

Keep chains in your face
Dirty fat out of a tractor

Hollywood rushed out an Epifilm
A fling in the blue room

Later on the ground a shake and fear
then ran on a weighty towel, screaming

In that mode, the field


A shogun wept a fever in my brain
a high noir music

Out in a rain

Feel a hymn, my bone
with how to want it

The valley stone
the land washed and knit

Milk the tree

Shaolin McGeorgy
wouldn’t keep them quiet