Chewy lamb of god & son ltd
First compact runners
Old new potatoes reheated
Fresh mint sauce of summers
Then and now under lilac cloud
Eyeshadow, outlined by cable mascara
And toothpick telegraph poles that scud
Willy-nilly, abandoned to the coal nirvana
Trees call another dusk
Gotterdammerung’s off!
End of the world as they knew it.
All afternoon unquenchable thirst
accompanied by a mind made of puppy fat.
There is energy, it is all over the place;
thin and clumped, dry and soggy, like an ill
-kempt meadow or face.
For, making meadows is
no laughing matter: neither is the end
of the world, no matter when.
I said to Betty:
‘Drop everythingi. Tonight we eat
with Ferlinghetti. I will you uppy-pick
in my Maserati at seven thirty sharpish’.
‘What will we have, Jimi?
Probably spaghetti, or, maybe linguini.’
‘Yummi!’
Bedstretched a while;
thirst like a wadi;
it’s nice here though,
breeze shaded lush
green garden near
overgrown
overgreen
over right
shoulder
colder
clay hill side
Elevenish
Big rains water the pampas
washing away dust and clues.
The flora sleeps soaked
and wakes to day kisses
of sun and breeze.
Mind out of time out of mind.
July swings all the way to Westward Ho! and Hell.
The buttercups are salted by soft tears
smoothed away by aphids.
Grimbeau 