Making the Weather
Here we are at seven-thirty-what’s next my good Pistachio?
Darned if I know Twinkle Toes I feel an urge to casual Urdu
My! How great minds think alike moi an urge to croon Walloon
After a predatory silence a baby entered the selective consciousness
Dispassionately leaving leanings to lopsided ambition aside
A fissure formed which gobbled them up in an instant
A small puppy breezed in through tall idyllic windows
We giggle emptily in slow motion contemplating Dapper Dan
Oi Brother wherefore art thou Gargling Glass?
O how we gargled as if it were to be our last
‘Hear in Texas sure moist out in the rain
Cows gawp atop multipurpose media
When comes Esther Williams Brother
or is it all a pack of lies designed to stop
Hoola-hoopla Wendy Hop, Hey Bro!’
when did we stop to matter
we did not stop to matter
we never mattered at all
penniless weavers stare blankly
upon thread bare looms
spinning gloomy yarns
recollecting old wives tales
through broken black teeth
exchange wry sardonic smiles
from far beyond a joke
lame wit sidles past
Buenaventura Durutti sports
gaudy cheapo espadrilles
twisted barbed wire
& cold dark glasses
Grimbeau 