June 30 Poem

Folks, we have a surprise—

In and out of existence—

Lighting up the audience with a lunar bag

Of Cheetos, the full moon, riding

High in the bag, floated

And buffeted its way


With strands of white

it disappeared.


The back of his neck was lit up

Like a ghost and rose up like watermelon

And cabbage that was for sale.

Parrhasius processed slowly the mechanisms

Of disappearance known to the trees.


Zeuxis, the finalist, envisioned them

Red or orange stripes on black.

They were probably manipulation.

June Poem 29

I can feel the trees growing; really,

I was up back to back with Zeuxis.

The forgotten were the other

People in the next business.

The wall separated Stan’s back yard

From his older sons.

That was so long ago

The memo yelled,

I pay for this building.


The apricot owner led

His donkey out to embrace me.

So I pulled out

A barber’s cape

And hit him.


Lost in the expanse

Of open, I was being held

Up from the stage

By the tree spirit.

June Poem 28

Kristen, the political parent,

Her newborn in the feedbox,

Found that high-invitation was extended.

Friends crowded into the Old Nurnberg Measure.

Stresses, situations like jobs for mothers

And daughters enjoyed a very special occasion

Of props including a pink feather.

Kevin Sengers, the tired man, awakened

Conspiracy purveyors like those without

A high study who found that floppy hats were used

To decorate the superintendent

As prestigious as Germany.

June Poem 26

A Greek chorus filed the garage,

And Tammy was nowhere.


There was a chorus spike

As soon as I realized

My body was reacting.


I was outstretched.

I felt the stucco against my back arms

And black feathers

That hung like tassels

Against the wall.


I leaned,

And a little man walked out.

He wore a green felt

Robe of biting animals.

He lifted

His right arm

And opened

His hand

Releasing a cloud of flies.


I felt my skin

Crawl from the sleeves,

And he bowed

To the audience with her

Against the wall.

June Poem 23

Conspiracies shuddered in fear for associating

With matter forty-two. Roughly, theories can be

A coping buffet table as they enter

The First United Methodist Church.


No, I think he called Melvin

One of the fliers to the column of the local burg.

But I couldn’t be sure about each of the stone pillars

That separated this world from the next.


The Ahyunte Church’s Children’s Committee

Was starlight poured over a fist.

They thumb on his brunch at the church.

And they were exceeded by far.

June Poem 22

The weight event was hosted

By the big red lips. It seemed,

The joint had not caused this.


The Baptist Church

On Saturday style umbrella

Complete with lumberyard.

A mother-daughter

Glasses frame and a mustache tree.

The stock along with a pair of dreams.



Three men now have

Their hats in rumbles

Of petal blood.

They were honored,

Feather trim, heart shaped.

And nights passed.


An older woman ran out

From among the mushrooms.

She tried to poke so long

For my eyes. I nearly forgot

Their different situations.


Jerod Thompson,

The crispy wearing man,

Was relearning the laws of physics

As it blinked paintbrushes in his hands.


Stan had the field

So he could be fed

On the tall grass when

There was no pizza party.

June Poem 21

Destruction and creation

Into motion for posterity.

The world’s first beginnings

At the distant edges

The thing moves faster—

Faster as it converges.


I am the center

A universal spiral

All matter historian, void.

Motivated to coalesce,

Spin in a vortex, to become gain

Because I recognize even them.

It spins in reds, oranges, and whites.


Once down my face,

There is a tension.

My chest. Again lost.


I can feel the tears streaming.

Only this,

Tightness of sorrow.

I am lying

Face on my center.


I remember old arthritic knuckles

And wrinkles and wrinkled hands.

My hands are covered.


In red all—

The friends dead.

Write down the results.

Preserve the universe.

This is the event that causes me.