TAXIDERMY FOR THE SPORTSMAN
Darling my darling,
Your miracles lend us the absent sight of dealerships
A suburban blubber,
Our link to a rawhide pain
So done with my ills and now we'll go ahead
And fluff your feathers with a blow dryer,
Happily removing this breakfast weave.
I need no more pleasure
Seeking a place where we are of no resemblance.
O darling my darling,
I'm stoned as the hinterland enamel,
And roundly enamoring
Your greed to spend a lot of dough
When we medicate our perfect push-up bra
With the miracles sung and now I'll go ahead
And churn the absence lending us sight,
A well worn pain seeking pleasure
From the billions of blow dryers hung.
A DIFFERENT WAR
Stepping deeper I scalp a lake
Capping the drowned on my jitters.
We break together
A lamprey sonnet painted thin.
August was poor but martyrdom is still preferred
By most tribes of daze bumping dirt medicine.
I know when I rise from the me for dead,
You'll swim to drown this lake well bombed.
The ham we raise should assertively perish
A trait fooling musk in its everlasting fade.
Neighborly nymphos compute my habits
Shampooing them out of focus
The cynic fanfare sawing off twenty kneecaps
Turned on mysterious cream
Drenched in fever
And confined a property
That decorates the disciplined specimens
Reincarnated by choosing for the butcher's reduction
A weedy spool maven
Throwing gloss its pastoral species.