Post Verbatim on the Cheap

Serpents in the face of what I admire
I can see the sun setting over your head
Elephants carefully walking on tight rope wires
And butterflies flying to wake the dead 

Wicked

I see pigeons with string bean hats and hard liquor.
They are illusionary beasts.
Nothing but bandits with billowing shirts and empty eyes. 

Obedience.

If my hands were made of water instead of clay
I wouldn’t fear them being washed away
They’d be washed away
If my head were filled with seeds instead of clouds
I wouldn’t worry about them floating away
They’d float away
If I didn’t have to feed Cerberus
If I didn't have to
I wouldn't have to. 

And with great reluctance

Oh how the mighty enjoy their
meaty meals
All of them leaking on their nap-faces.
Bring an end to the flying of soups
No, don’t crumble the crackers 
of Job.
He dislikes it a plenty.
Save for the day of chunky beef
butts, and hold.
All is well but, Yes?
What is it? Be gone foul feline
of boiled eggs.
We do not wish for soft yellow oranges
No, do not be escaped

Nettles

Once there, how

do your peaches tremble?

I cannot agree to these

peas, please

knock the door upon

the summoned homes.

Weak water in the

bowels of bowling feet 

Blue Plane

Looking through some clean crisp cabbage
While the blobs twist and flick
Jump start the fall
And end the rotations 

Sound 2 (with the help of snow)

Oh is thing
is a an was
was cover and
a mice nettle

Oh is was
and all is a 
an oh cover
and this or was
an thing a and 
all was, was oh
no a an thing cover 
was was oh
a all no 

Sound 1 (with the help of snow)

It was a long journey, but they finally table topped the pool
And how we charted
I’m bleeding some milk froth, and this drive could only and only
Besides we certainly ate them all
Soiled and eaten, bruised and barter
Trade and taxi, papa pepperoni
Pork, pork, my marvelous wait
My envelope staple, this meaty divide
In the wait of the eve, a singular port of librarian eye
But my ankles
Drop to the fear, you tall and valor
Oh how the meaty do sail, their efforts in all over out up
It cries my hunger, all that is worth
Terrible birth whale
Weeping, dripping, mammal in anathema
This minion, my heart, sword tell
Do tell or lent
Indeed although the cabinet, in the eyes does not covet 
For wheat, and myself: four fine thunders of men
Hark! 
A spinner amongst the antediluvian pad lily

Kids and Mountains and Space

I wake up and open my eyes
Wondering what would happen to the place that I had come to love
So vivid and so pretty
It’s revolting  dark and dismal

I traveled through my head this morning
thanks to the pleasant imagery that played while I was dreaming

I don’t know what to make of this place
but it doesn’t matter now because I’m still dreaming
I’m always dreaming 

Go back, I close my eyes and fall asleep until you find
the place that gently bends and soothes your troubled head
The light shines through your eyes, but not any more
No red reminder or silly blissful places left behind
I’m so glad that they passed

Today is now yesterday and today is something different.
Sleep is what separates them. 
Sleep is the vessel.
Sleep is the portal.
and.
Sleep is the magician.