Oh, weep for Adonais—he's undead!
    And hath been, lo! these interstitial years!
Yellow and black and pale and hectic red,
    His cockney mood consumptively careers.
Upon a bubbling Hippocrene he's drunk
    And dreaming, standing tiptoe on the brink
Of the wide world that sinks, and will have sunk,
    As love and fame to nothingness do sink.
An anguished autumn wind doth howl a HOWL
    Of abject grief that sweeps the graveyard's stones.
The sickle moon observes the downy owl
    That eats a mouse from tail to skull and bones.
Zombie Allan Poe, who's green and obscene,
Is sobbing, "Happy Birthday Halloween!"

Frisbee flies
Like a UFO.

Aliens hatch.

Blue skies.

A tic-tac-toe
Of them trails
Called chem trails.

A wonky throw—
He makes the catch!

I pick my nose
With all my fingers
And all my toes.

I sniff a rose:
The aroma lingers:
I pick my nose.

Calcium grows
My thingamajingers
And all my toes.

A horseshoe throws
A bunch of ringers:
I pick my nose.

The north wind blows
A flock of wingers
And all my toes.

A sewer sews
With several Singers:
I pick my nose
And all my toes.

The one flower
     Outside my window
Has turned to dust.

G♾D

!hap

pie
e.e.
***

(13
0th)

ming
s' b
irth

day!

There once was a fella from France
Who'd dance a libidinous dance:
     He'd focus the eyes
     Of the club on his thighs,
Then dance himself out of his pants.