!               !               !          !              !                   !                 !
     !                !                !            !               !                     !
             !                !                      85°    !              !
 ­  !                                  all the ra!ndrops!fall except !      !       !
            !                !                 for one!that ra!ns up      !
                       !                  !               !           !              !            !
  !             !                !                 !                         !
                             !                                    !                   !        !
               !                     !            !                       !          
        !               !                                !                               ­  !
   !              !              !                 !                !            !                   !
             !                         !                     !                         !
     !                    !                    !                      ­  !                       !
                 !                      !                         !                  !  
         !                      !                     !                       !             !
!             !          !              !                     !        ¡               !              !
            !                     !                    !                   !                  !        !                  !        🪱     !                      !                !                 !

to be or not to be,
that is the question un
doing democracy
burdened by what has been

the magic 8 ball knows
the answer,so do i
the magic answer is
better not tell you now

min     mal
         i
pr          sm

$ummer Apple tree$:
iPhone$ ripen in the $un—
Fir$tfruit$ of knowledge.

                             *

                          asleep
                        and fall
                      777)       
                    6     ­         
                  5                  
                4         ­            
              3                       
            2                          
          (1                            
        i count them                 
      (starry starry night)      
    through the night sky      
  (fly into heaven)                  
woolbirds fly high                

                                                            n
                                                   n           ­   u              
                           h                 y                    s      
                    g           t         k                     r      
                                         s                    e   
                   h                  ee              w        
                       g               b           o
                             i                   l            
                                    l       f
                                      n    
                                u      
                        ­   s

                                                   i
                                               t      n
                                           o             g
                                        o                     
go and catch a shhhh                           star. . . . . .

Cool morning:
A garbage truck sings
To a steel wool sky.

𝓐𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓶 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓷'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮,
𝓝𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓘 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶.
𝓘 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭.

𝓟.𝓢.  𝓘 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭.

when is is all there is where isn't was
and all the sky's inside a blue balloon
and everywhat is known to be because
God is too good to be believed too soon

then breathing breath doth verily become
(in spite of all the sayers saying nay)
a joy exploding all the threats of doom
since every doomsday dies before its day

a s

now
f

lake
d
rea
m

s at
op
a on

ce
up
on a
tim

e mo
unta

in

in Sp
ring
when song
birds

singjoy
fully,
dying
is

dull
;but
fat worms
****

**** thunder
are the
raindrops
fal

ling&stain
ing the
side
walk,rin

sing off
the
col
orful chalk

Emily shmemily,
Emily Dickinson,
Recluse and poetess,
Rendered her rhyme

Idiosyncrously,
Much of her poetry
Reading most cryptically
Much of the time.

The woman singing
With the car radio
Knows half the words.

A customer grabs,
With a shirt-protected hand,
Goodwill's door handle.

The boy in the womb
Is already attending
DUI classes.

A yellow leaf falls          
And hits me in the stomach:    
Last day of summer.

Alot o ****
spe akstot
hehe art
**** hi sh
ere poe
m hwisp
ers sweetno
things to
thee lbo
w.

        ^         ^
       My kitty
        cat's an                                        
           imp
       ra cti cal                            
    purrrrrrfect
  little dainty fat                    
    little lady cat                                                         .
       who uses                                                                  s
         her litter box while wearing her white sock
                                     

Antique
paper
& ink
& glue,
a fragrance
I drink
in through
my nose,
fragrant
like a dead rose.
I fan my face,
& fall into
an antique book
aroma coma.

Adolf ******
Was a lot littler
Than most Aryan brothers
And their mothers.

The Honey Bee

Little buzzing Honey Bee,
Honey sweetens me and thee.
Thou art busy all the Day;
Busy Bee, thy Wings are gay.

Flowers bloom and showers fall;
Spring is springing over All.
Thou shalt work till Daylight's end.
Golden Bee, thou art my Friend!


The Beekeeper

Little buzzing Honey Bee,
Thou dost make my Gold for me.
Labour, Bee, because thy toil
Buys my meat and drink and oil.

Thou art mine: what thou dost make,
Slave! to Market I shall take.
Mine the Bee and mine the Earth,
Mine by Right of Human Birth.

A triolet
     's a pirouette
In a ballet
A triolet
(Or should I say
     A triolette?)
A triolet
     's a pirouette.

Galaxy in hand,
I zoom in on Mount Fuji
With Nintendo thumbs.

We're fishes in the internet
Caught in the catch of net the day.
The smartest smartphones place a bet
That some night soon you'll meet a gray.
A U.F.O. (or, as they say
In England Land, a yoofo) flies
From where sweet baby scarecrows play
And eye the stars with googly eyes.

While sweating drops of acid sweat,
A cyborg prays away the gay.
A covid sneeze that's extra wet
Is heading thine iambic way.
Tuberculariaceae......
Is the password!  You win the prize!!
Ride on a rocket to Mars, crochet,
And eye the stars with googly eyes.

If you should dance a minuet,
Throw in a twerk for Claude Monet.
I fly around a jumbo jet
While crying, "Climate change!  Obey!!"
Unqualified I fly (hooray!)
A plane that fails hardwarewise.  
Olympic athletes play croquet
And eye the stars with googly eyes.

Enjoy a ride in Santa's sleigh
Before you make your reindeer pies.
Shake thou the darling buds of May,
And eye the stars with googly eyes.

There once was a gal from Berlin:
The hair on her chinny-chin-chin
     Was thicker than wool,
     And it made her blades dull
Whenever she shaved to the skin.

The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

Over the net
It goes back and forth:
It goes north to south,
And it goes south to north.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it:
It's stuck in my racquet.

There once was a man from Tyrone
Who spent all his time all alone:
     It got on his nerves,
     And he wanted some curves,
So he Frankensteined a female clone.

G♾D

Edmund Clerihew Bentley
Invented an eminently
Humorous verse form
Which is also a terse form.

W;hi    L.      ere     re       Adi
            Ng   aGai"n                                
                                Casu!
       aLly    t;h'um:bing     (li   ke    A
          hAIRyhITCHhIKEr)htrohug         The Poetry Dictionary
                                                      ­                     by  John Drury     
,p'ic:k   iNG    m
                                                                ­Y
         pOeTiC  n O sE      W.ith
                         ALL       0,1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9of
      my       PoEtIc       f-in-g-ər-s    ,i  
           rem      inde             d       a.m.

THa,T
                            a         cobla     i
           s.a          poem          t  
                Hat's          o+n­-e=stanza
                                                       ­       loooooooooooo0°    ng
    (   Li ke    Bob   Fro'sts     Fire
                                                  aⁿ
                                                 Dice          )


AaBbCcDdEeFfGgHhIiJjKkLlMmNnOoPpQqRrSsTtUuVvW­wXxYyZz

There once was a man from Zumbrota
Who'd **** down a 2-liter soda,
     Then burp up a symphony
     By Beethoven winsomely,
From the first bar to the end of the coda.

Prove whether I do change, my dear,
Or if that I do still remain
Like as I went, or far or near,
And if ye find me not the same,
Declare 't is so that all may hear.

But if ye prove I change, my dear,
Not, but unchanged I do remain
Constant and true whithersoe'er
I travel to, then, dearest, deign
T'admit it only in mine ear.

A dead, flat cricket
Under bright fluorescent lights
In a bathroom stall.

There once was a crocomodile
Who lived as the lord of the Nile:
     He once ate a pharoah
     From meatballs to marrow
While crying and wearing a smile.

The crow in the tree
Is actually          
A black trash bag.    

A peaches dawn climbs
A deep-breathing dark blue sky:
Flowers, a warm breeze.

A fruit fly flies by:
There's enough apple
For us both.

Rrrrrrramən
n°○°●•○●•dles
are °•●○dləs
and ○°•●dles
of n●°○•dləs,
●○°•○•●°dles.

Since Jesus Christ is God, and I am not,—
Since I am not my own creator, I,
Adam, shall seek no more to justify
Myself; for every tittle, dot, and jot
Has been fulfilled by Christ who's God of all,
The Adam hitherto I could not be,
The faithful Adam faithful now in me,
Adam redeemed and lifted from the fall.

The God of all the gods of nature, earth,
The kosmos, hades, greed, lust, war, and death,
Whose word is life, whose life is breath, whose breath
Inspires the wind that seeds the second birth,
Is Sin's Exterminator, Death's Decease,
Judgment, Forgiveness, Mercy, Love, and Peace.

Father God
Doesn't spare the rod
Or spoil
Any boi or goil.

The kite's high.
I give it more string.
I give it
All the string.
It takes off
And flies away
And lands
God knows where.
Goodbye!

Flying in falling
Softly snow, five blue pigeons
And a white pigeon.  

There once was a man from Kilkenny
Who purchased a pipe for a penny,
     Then filled it with wacky
     And woolly tobacky,
And smoked himself dumb at four:twenny.

My technoscribbles haven't all cachet;
A mother hen on Friday farts an egg.
Even a swill of parlance has a say
When maple roadmaps varicose a leg.
A skinnydipping nakedest remote
Viewer that loons a dreaming skims a pond
Fractals a nascent green and gleimous note
Hanging athwart with someone's else's blonde.
Take heart.  The fish have lungs and breathe the air
Of a new day when everyfish can ***
With or without a whiff of underwear,
Though salty tears are sweetest under the sea.
Milfs are a pack of pickleballing hots
Playing to win a plate of tater tots.

The autumn rain is falling
    Like teardrops from mine eyes;
I cannot help recalling
    With sobs and lingering sighs
               My Fugliana.

The days returning never,
    The golden days of yore,
I thought would live forever,
    Yet gone fornevermore
               Is Fugliana.

With rue my heart is laden;
    L'amour peut être amer.
Nor any rose-lipt maiden
    Was e'er so fair as fair
               Fair Fugliana.

There once was a martian from Mars
Named Alfț'drônþopo'gorgg'glìån'nars:
     He constructed a spaceship
     And went on a spacetrip
To the farthest, most alien stars.

There was an Old Man of Japan
Whose lim-er-icks never would scan;
When they said, "What the fu?" he replied, "They're haiku!"
That Irish Old Man of Japan.

There once was a fella from Maine
Who added some drugs to his brain:
     He lost half his mind,
     And the half left behind
Was totally f'ing insane.