martin

2033

US was open for business: Brian got a hellhole in one.
Beginner’s luck? US is still open for business . . .
As a high-school fullback, Brian redefined
the meaning of blockhead
(one absent-minded snap at a time).
Brian’s impassive face could also
hold forth about the empty promise
of the next generation of punts not intended for return.
. . . But not for Brian who
once smashed the racket,
refused to serve (twice),
lost third fifteen,
heard “Love forty!”,
and high-fived the umpire.

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2032

Jay knows the time of day by the Sun(ar);
to add insult to injury, Jay consults
random baby stroller pushers,
aka child traffickers.
And on cloudy days?
Jay applies the baby formula:
put two and two nipples together,
subtract four pacifiers,
and make five: 5 p.m.
As for the time of year, Jay lets the deciduous trees
decide (also what to wear); Jay asks the traffic lights,
or a pigeon, for a second (o)pinion.
A blue-n’-naked infant
criss-crossing a small prominence in the middle of a road
suggests
an extended power outage
on a winter night.

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2031

The extract of Ted’s
The Who, the Where, and the How of
the World’s UnvaccinaTed Scramblers
is ethced (sic) in the stoned:
Jack, John, and Jim in Jack’s garage,
constructing an electronic device
to make the rapid take-off
of THC effects unintelligible.
Jackson, Johnson, and Jimson in the basement,
dodging the would-be homework co-assignment
after initial pass protection has failed.
Jackie, Jane, and Jemima in Jackie’s kitchen,
scrambling mushrooms until the familiar fumes
usher in the urge to hump hemp pillows.

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2030

(In the wilderness, why blush red?)
And yet,
Tim’s deeply tanned skin pales in comparison
with the complexion of Tim’s excrement.
Over time, however,
even Tim’s shit diminishes,
pales into insignificance,
and so does Tim’s feces.
(So why flush brown?)
“To urinate in public is beyond the pale, sir.”
Tim has no wooden stake in the wide blue yonder, cops, and no guilt complex.
Tim sees the projectSPLASH SIX EYELASHES
WITH SEE-THROUGH URINE LACED WITH UROBILIN:
SEE THROUGH THREE POKER FACES
through.

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2029

Escape the matrix?
And the fleeceable plebs
in sheep’s clothing
scrapegreatestofalltimes Ted.
(“For binge-playing tetris!”)
Sap the chicanery?
And the machinery
worn out by design
scraps Ted.
(“Send this crap where good irony is made by smelting!”)
“Quo vadis, Ted?”
To give the State the butterflies!
And the status quo butterflies
Ted like a fish.
(“The result will be one fillet, not two.”)
Anastacia, left alone
outside the operating room,
is sick-n’-tired singing a lullaby.
Welcome to her truth, Ted:
She is not sad for you!

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2028

— “The bass, Mickey, is like the slide, the descent
is but the low-key half of the journey;
from a puke’s perspective.”
The instrument has the appearance
of a long-necked spade, Mr Gardener,
with the spade buried some six feet in the ground.
“Want to pump some iron, Rambo?
The rusty force rod of the blue hand water well pump
sounds as pleasingly as the seesaw.”
Mm, or as rambunctiously as those checke-red picnic blankets?
Too much flood for thought (may cause a spadeful of diarrhea).

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2027

The filling of Brian’s skull is?
Cerebriform: resembling brain
in form, texture, essence. Was.
That Brian’s skull is like a toothpaste tube
(easier to squeeze than refill)
Brian toothbrushes aside.
Bobby: How does Brian keep at a distance
the idea of approaching Brian to reproach Brian?!
Bob: By distancing Brian from Brian’s braincrumbs
watching Brian’s brush with death from a distance.

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2026

— “Show lascivious 淫 Theia
the ninth Heavenly Stem 壬!
Let Theia pay ($exce$$ive 淫)
attention 鸟 to . . .”
Theia grabs 手 the bird 鸟,
er, Ted’s goddamn 鸟 cock 公鸡,
in her right claw 爫, er, hand 又.
“Not every damned 鸟 woman
engaged in certain types of
(obscene 淫) work 手
is a pro$titute 鸡.”
Theia’s pussy,
a roadside law(n) unto herself,
is like a jukebox:
serves drinks; plays selec-Ted tunes
when a cock is inser-Ted.

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2025

The highest good, Mary, is pleasure. Like,
Mickey gets a kick out of erecting magnificent sandcastles,
Mary signals a fair catch . . .
“And because the highest pleasure is the practice of virtue,
and because the highest virtue is PerFection — ”
The kicker always tries to cure the prolate spheroid
by squishing it before every kick-off.
What’s Mickey’s Probability of Failure?
“Indeed, the highest good is pErFecTion.
And the idea of
a peRFectly fortuitous concourse of grains of sands
is also not so far-fetched . . .”

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