it's never the right kind of miracle
	rotary-dialing the milky way 
                                                   which we
	licked from its first blade to the
	bony slat of my fortieth eyeball
.







		"Wait a minute," belched the infant hippy.
		"rotten woods box trotting cankers
		 lobbing thick beer-bread caveward."
.






radar spotted 6 chimneys
  fumbling close-captioned
  license plates stolen
  by stylish sorrels

delivered to your nose:
  Easter vapors gadding
  tight in their sneakers
  and repelling air pellets
.




				once this week the
				cash register's paunch
				plucked splinters off
				Huckleberry Finn.

					later today
					I expect to stain
					Seattle.





					dripping hundreds
					flop wet strata of
					cheap leather on my
					desk pomposinating
					wireless fantasies,
					eventually incriminating
					perfect barcodes.

				jam, clink, wind, pop, swim, jungle.



	jackhammers smooth
	Carl Sagan's hairy Mercedes --
		this way the woman from next year will
		more easily singe her
		infant's cuticles.




			I will pour tan Valvoline
			under the trumpets in my face --
			coaxing from satan a taco platter
			to the grassy tennis courts
			  three blocks from my barricaded
			  pencil of jazz












								gum












			tiny
			radish









				        wendy






					point

					      hacksaw

					  hump

					        smashed



					zone 14








d r a f t









							nubile


							tunguska









hundreds of poppies
gunking over with Jiffy
paraded the capital grounds
demanding stucco ice cream	before sunday, oily hops
and tongue kisses from each	flinched to recognize
of the poorest drains.		biochemical glyoxylate puns --	   inches to
				howard's puppy reminded us --	   practice
				let's not coin too many busts.	   cubicle.




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