My dream is a decadent chantrelle soup

Eating an entire bag
of strawberry flavored marshmallows
is ergonomically deficeint.

Going to a circuis starring horses
is a felony.
Pop music is loud.

Finding a new housemate is a fable —
clearly.
A bottle of wine
is really irritating.
Tomorrow,
after that mistake,
is cranky.

“Social degredation is my heart’s desire”
Your thought is a rapid death.

Childhood is a nightmare
not worth recalling.
Traveling is rotten,
as in poorly preserved.

Cultural appropriation is like
touching wet bubble gum
underneath a table.
Our heroic protagonist is
fast.

The last word is destructive.

Cancer is hopeless.
An unexpected let down
(…is rather smelly)
Great-grandma is hard to see.

The barren tree is a crooked fellow.
A heart attack is awfully likeable.
Fire is strictly inexcuseable.
A flood is verbose.
The ripple in the lake, approaching the shore,
is unreliable
at best.

A revolving door is ridiculous.
Simplicity
is behind the second door.
Closing the door is
like a yowling cat sitting on your face.

Carolyn is the secret ingredient.
The soup is what I embody.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s