BENT-UP BIKE ROBBERY
be caution or one-way,
not a reprehensible function
of adverse desires or
negligent stepchildren.
the bent-up bike robbery
sat apparently unnoticed
throughout the procession.
I want gummy syllables
to eavesdrop on grandmother.
it makes no difference
if you know what I mean.
there’s a key on your necklace
the size of an oyster.
my mattress was weak
w/ anticipation.
a scissor-tailed spoiler was
borrowing my handkerchief.
I’m needed in the dollhouse.
these spitting images protect
the magic librarians.
I’m spinning on the ice!
I’m eating pears on the pyramids
w/ wonder woman!
if standing on the bookshelves
is a sin, I’d like your
largest bundle please.
I’m resisting the urge
to dance to my meeting,
but I’m bad at resisting.
fake rates, ladle girders
& sarsaparilla forests!
three-pronged ladders &
safety passports!
I’m running out of ice now.
you ring is in the stable
near the table. it’s labelled.
I only need the left half
of a shirt. my bands are
matching checkers. I heard
that it makes a mutiny.
you see me eating these green leaves?
all of my features were running
from something.
HAMBURGER TELEPHONE
this loop is near its exit function,
factory dictionaries in cheesy sauce
expect to be portrayed at any instant.
I delineated my forcefield habit
into seventy-three representations of dying.
the oasis made us happen
in the middle of the moment,
the long symptom & prediction
of a sideways lasso helmet
got me going by the numbers
to a meaningless answer.
when it’s cold,
when it’s hot,
why are you hearts,
where is the amaze,
why not lie to serenity?
the ideal copy of my life
is generated in a vacuum.
small smiles in an endless waterfall
rip open unzipped loads of rapid
utility & mysterious code formulas.
a cheaper southern start-up
made a knowing piracy
into stew w/ vegetables.
you did things correctly.
I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
my comedy background
prevented my ascent
of the career ladder
to the cantilevered balcony
from which my pennies plunge.
whatever it was was happening
& happening over
& over incessantly.
I dropkick the passerby
that stamps my postcard.
a cruising lamination rainbow
recycles all its earrings
& drinks them in the morning.
you’ve got you.
red cranes keep flying too close
to be alive for any other reason.
I bleakly acknowledge their knowledge.
you cooked two pizzas
at one time
while we were bowling
& putting cow dogs
like scamps or seltzer
into a labyrinth behind my eyes
that smells like apple fritters.
the last time I made believe
on my own
in the ocean,
I lost my balance
& fell off into nothing.
my sharp bosses lost their boyfriends
& played pool w/ a Doberman.
you can see everything
I’ve lost over time
if you stare at the center
of a wobbly pinpoint.
you formulate my function
when you litter your pianos
at the riverwalk dog park.
periwinkle pilgrims on my back
make noises out of dirt balls.
hamburger telephone.
graduated basement league.
inflatable body odor.
listerine evergreen spleens
in screaming dreamteams
between lean & obscene marines
convene to beam scenes
that careen off the screens.
ICICLE CLOUD RACE
I’m hunting headless horsemen
thru terrains of yellow laminate
& polystyrene history horseback
adding machine operators.
I let it expand as an
icicle cloud race.
my curly scimitar pushes
all the silky dovetails out to harbor.
let’s celebrate the yerba!
the pro-line hospital bill!
the two air conditioners sitting side by side!
meter oil scoot sales corrupt ali baba,
a hanging wooden fox to welcome friends.
a matter of incorruptible fantasy…
duluth is made of sumac.
YOU DROVE YOUR CAR
it’s love!
it must really be!
COMMUNION & DOMINION
unkempt beliefs winding away
like false eyelashes,
communion & dominion,
sorely missed lurching urchins
& phosphorus child.
it matters like a hairball
in a stick of clay,
grows dull & dry
for each particular sidelong sequence
that it takes to evaporate
a soap bubble,
the oily edges of space.
a ringing happens more than once.
I’m feeling like a deck of cards
on a sewer grate,
laid thin about a poopy vacuum
w/ my floppy hat on
& my hands in my pockets,
my siamese twin always with me.
a lens is telling enough in its construction.
to go much deeper into specificity
would do a disservice
to an already tarnished name.
believe in god if you must,
but launch a cannonball into it.
you lied when you said the number
of your happinesses.
believe you me,
the sun shines if you ask it to
& if you don’t.
a formlessness approved by every
sponsor state & marathon
infiniplex, demanding to be taken
seriously or hostage,
whining to nobody,
opened its shadow & began
to pick apart the shadow bones
like they were shadow string cheese
or some noodles. we didn’t want
the silent nature of the world,
just confetti & jumprope.
we didn’t want a dangerous swimming pool,
just a wicker basket & some string.
shove a tree trunk down the throat
of every sorry bastard
named aluminum. collapse my magnet
in the greenish blur that looks
like something I remember from my life.
suck me down into myself, a further
forward than a million intros,
maximizing what I can of every pixel
until I’m bloated w/ the basic notion
of all around me,
or the genuine thing,
the lost memory gateway,
the remainder of time.
VIORA
beyond,
oh yes!
thru,
& dangerously forward!
what one rambles from a deep obscurity,
wrapped in feathers & milk.
letters arrive but are addressed to another,
it happens every day.
loose!
too tangled!
there’s space enough only for one,
& the grating is metal.
my tie-dyed kneecaps are born without function.
a faulty function renders wires harmless.
strangers flash their palms at me,
show me what’s underneath their hats.
I’m tired of this all-black certainty
that smokes in pairs.
they cross the river like thread.
the rectangle within your grasp
is like alarming weather,
jumping quickly out the gates.
you fold your seeing-eye dogs
on the linen,
next to the cement mixer.
empty pole-holes beg to be filled
rather than forgotten.
noonlight never shows,
& everybody slept thru the movie.
it’s possible the museum was bag-filled,
but probably not in the right way.
I’d rather sow than reap.
blue boxes drifted past me
as I helped a person w/ no hands
pick up the things they could not carry.
how long does it take to win back your freedom?
we’re restless & we’re fans of each other.
three different strains exist at once together,
regardless of crumpled starting points.
viora!
cool fire.
edible park.
gallery saint.
a green stallion grumbles over ground
whose lip grows upwards.
anything amazes me.
red under gray is a worthwhile illusion.
two matching squares of light
discuss their hometowns
next to decapitated pigeons.
a pipsqueak struts handsomely
at the end of life’s tether.
cool fire!
a clearance in triplicate.
more all-black forgetters.
a tiny wisp of smoke
caught beautifully before your face
in a soft triangle of orange light.
CANTALOUPE ORIGAMI
god is a word.
timid cracks peek around corners
for rapid abasement
from pacific numbers.
zero point four
in a locked gable side-stall
territory. a brown & hair
distilled upon the front face.
leasing smiles from oily wonder
in a textured mountain valley
filled w/ purples in a golden.
I’ll be little,
I’ll be big w/ little,
undoing it sideways.
things go always toward the better
that could happen, & don’t break
the plankton. it was nice to hear
the carnival in between stacks.
I remember when you pointed your finger.
you said that everything should be longer.
I went back up & down & up
for no reason but to seem ready.
still, I was the first one left.
I did a dance w/ the instruction
carved in wood, my wooly mammoths
without heartbeats, my dueling pair
of yipping hairballs.
we paint the bricks the brightest green
to warn away the soldiers
from our spot. our cantaloupe origami
does the trick for time to come.
relaxing on the spot seems fuller
that the most accomplished feat
to test the limits of our
weary embolisms. are you a sailor?
all things heat up when subjected
to the right amount of meaning.
let’s overstate our motives
for that big explosive entrance
& the damage that it caused us.
beyond me, fame tenor amber on
purse at a raucous ennui.
pardon miss cousin soul of lay-on
fonts conned type her ruse.
umbilical stereo on eye derived
a shelling nature splashing by.
Colin Ferguson 