Nosy about her tea cozy
Through the kitchen window
Mrs. Appleberry peered
Upstairs in her bed
With ice to her head
Mrs. Ohnion feared
Her cozy had gotten loose
Or otherwise disappeared
Nosy about her tea cozy
Through the kitchen window
Mrs. Appleberry peered
Upstairs in her bed
With ice to her head
Mrs. Ohnion feared
Her cozy had gotten loose
Or otherwise disappeared
The Fog of Aug
In the windowed distance
Nightly by the sprightly tree
Crept and wrapped
Like laundry flapped
And dispelled the mystery.
Some days you’re hanging on a word
Others dangling by a sentence
Hands gripping the H
And body aches
Are left for the Holdovers
From outer space
He punctuated his statements with a near-to-honking laugh which seemed to cancel them out.
Track of the flake
Moonbeam to ivory bouffant
Twirl to dissolve
In the stardeep current
The geese turds have frozen
The tracks in the open
Snow from the trees shaken loose
She ran off
With a rasta man
In the Jamaican hills
This tourist lady
They calls it
Walking on shells
But that was just one
Of the theories
The energy of
Paths splitting off
The water current
There wasn’t rough
The way the wind makes it skitter
The dried brown leaf
Becomes a creature
Lately it’s lasagna
Buffeting the buffet
It’s only macaroni
But some day
The bears are waking early
The chipmunks have gone squirrely
The v formation now a w