A mighty title titillates,

a vital tool that intimates,

the likely gist of printed page,

to whit the what the write equates–

it’s more than just a name…

Forsooth it often indicates,

in truth at times it illustrates,

thru clues the muse that view awaits

if specious spew, or leaves of sage

and reading what the gain.

And thus must scribes discriminate,

when choosing such: articulate

no need to rush–deliberate

eliminate what obfuscates,

and state it pure and plain.

On optional journey of self-discovery,

and no vacation

it’s best to stockpile

trial mix

. . .

1 part brazens,

1 part nuts,

1 whole heart untrimmed,

(that stuff you can’t identify)

& boatloads of

crushed i aM’s & aM’s,

You have to be tenacious.

be brave enough to

uncage

) the beast within (

) drunk on fermented tribulations and spoiling for a fight (

You have to ready yourself to do battle

–or at the very least–

accommodate its pet tricks.

 
 
at Dark o’clock

I let go of Y’s,

& catch some Zzz’s–my close up

finally at hand.

a La∙La land hitchhiker

slash

tourist

slash

immigrant,

I never retire

hells, no, I

turn in

–to someone else–

cast invariably in the

starring roll, it’s

–something else–

and involves quite a bit of farm-work,

first I

count sheep,

and then I

hit hay,

and then I

–look for that needle, I suppose–

and then I

saw logs

–for ranch house repair–

after I get

the Nod

to knock off,

–for the night-night–

 
an overnight success

(at)

taking 5–

(or 40)

winks. . .

I kicked off

–the ball?

–the New Year?

–the constraints of the masses?

(my shoes)

just for

–coal walking?

–footsie?

–trying on trainers?

(a minute)

growing more

–callused?

–callous?

–carefree?

(anxious)

in this barefoot state which is oxymoronic, dontcha think but the shards of glass

–heel?

–eyeball?

–champagne flutes?

(house)

quite surrounded me, interspersed with sizable

–potholes?

–dustbunnies?

–insurance premiums?

(stones)

which made for rough going, yet seemed appropriate, since the shoes I kicked off were

–flip flops?

–waffle stompers?

–made for walking?

(Mary Janes)

and though I’ve looked for them

–high and low?

–lately?

–on sale?

(everywhere)

one’s gone missing, and wouldn’t you know it was

–the left one?

–my own fault?

–at an amputee convention?

(the Merry one)

that I can no longer find.

I’m well

red,

white-bread

and blue spoken,

broken bar,

striped star–

–Yank

I

Doodle

notions.

America,

I’m beautiful,

my feet defining me.

in verse

and glare.

of rockets, there

barely missing me.

.Break ups suck.

lending lie to a

lifetime of memories. . .

stripping them

of meaning
 

–the polar

opposite of erotically–

new definitions

large and in charge

barge in. . .

all slap and no tickle

sweetheart

♥

becomes asshole

*

or closer
to it

–along with the realization that

no∙one

is different than

no∙thing

~despite previous disconnect~
 

that nicknames

dissolve

~private jokes need at least one audience member~

and

containers showcase

different contents

–the face of continuity

broken.

I sent my Spanks and

Wonderbra

without me to the gym class,

those ass and tits

refused to quit

and pocketed my gym pass. . .

rhinoplasty

solved that nasty

horny tendency,

a well-trimmed schnauz

is sexy cause

it’s poachless presently. . .

except of course

if face is horse

like–best to keep the horn,

dye mane pink

so folks will think

that you’re a unicorn. . .

nip and tuck

and lipo-suck

to render rest fat-free,

slap-on spackle

helps you battle

cracks in filigree. . .

corset and

girdle

final hurdle

to tune those toneless cheeks,

remember duty

as “natural” beauty

pressure profile sleek.