The sleepless night ached inside of you like
A methane pool waiting sharp and shiny
On the forehead. Your brow wrinkled and wrapped
Wringing through thoughts like sweat soaked hand towels.
Absorbent eyebrows wet and sagging like
The frown dripping down and drawing dots on
The multiple choice test sheet. And yellow paint
Cracking against yellowed teeth chewing
The pencil. Teeth browned by the multiple pots
Of pure concentration poured straight through the
Funnel of your coffee cup cram session.
You and your friends finding new knowledge. The
Night before then becoming mere hours
Before the final was set to begin.
Greg Polan, who talks to invisible
People, doodles pictures pushed out of stream
Banks flooded where high waters have peril,
Even the pearl itself. Several people
Have reported, those asked to prepare smart
Sonic for the putter. Should you prepare
To keep things especially important.
Hearing aging Plymouths or Ramblers and
Stretched trot lines prim on banks and hooks. All things
Pedestrian to be sure, unlike prime
Photon people near time and weather. And
Proper people peering preciously on
Into surreal Holly Springs skeleton
Rebuild. Beautiful proper catfish pie.
It was too harsh. Books banished, weeded, and
Smoke escaped one’s free words. Sad strands of smoke
Rose from the diffuse cherry. And the smoke sucked
Fields of weeds. A big bunch of these bad boys
Swept their own ink. They had smoked it like weed
Out the end of bad taste. The color of
Your teeth after you smoke twelve packs of Cools.
He was sure the weeds had needed a cut.
From early wood fire, and plants. Wet clay hills were
Suspended. The peels were hard to keep lit
When they held planes as fat as forest fires.
Gang violence replaced mineralized Mitch
For us. The bright color of fire ants tell
Dirty dotted chunks of information.
Shall you stick your schlong
Into the slot marked bulk mail,
So the she-mailman can see
The slimy slitherer that you
So wish to show?
Shall she see the slippery salamander
And gaze at its glory
Or will she hear the horny horror
Of your hairy ham and heave at the hole?
Or shall she heave herself
At your sizable showing
And seize the shaft
Showering, slathering, and slobbering
Shiny lips and esophagus?
Shall she shimmy down her shorts
Showing her shorn snizz
And sheath your sword in her snatch
Swaying against the wall slot
Shielding your semblance from society?