Billy loved his parsnip
He'd tend it day and night
To keep it safe from prying eyes
He stashed it out of sight
But one eventful morning
He awoke to such alarm
His parsnip had gone from puny
To the size of a baby's arm

Such growth was nigh unheard of
In a vegetable or fruit
So he bore it proud before him
Grasped expertly by the root
When he showed his doting mother
She was mightily impressed
So screamed a lot then swooned a bit
While clutching at her chest

The people at the bus stop
Shared his mother's admiration
But advised him that his tuber
Needed urgent relocation
So he took it in a taxi
Wrapped up in folded gauze
To the Guinness book of records
And he pushed apart the doors

His parsnip held protruding
With a confident advance
Like a knight atop his charger
With a huge organic lance
But security had seen him
They quickly knocked him flat
A policeman saw his parsnip
And he hid it with his hat

Billy served his sentence
For unsavory displaying
He changed his name to Danny
There's no record where he's staying
The moral of this sorry tale
Is far too dull to write
So learn your ****** vegetables
And know their names on sight

**

each a sphere
the  solar system
the amplitude
all the way down to a molecule
inside what makes that
smaller things
I can imagine down to infinite
or as big as all of it
inside my neurons
made up of small orbiting things
still smaller things are caught
in elliptical or circular
formulae
and still I stand upright
postulating,
ain't that a miracle
I don't just spin right round.
Like a song by
Dead or Alive

form forms a bubble around the most profound things
tension keeps most out and that keeps the surfactant surface round
like a dogwood blooming or a twig dripping
dewdrops in the morning
or an insane writer performing acrobatic bounces
on the surface of the paper trampoline
trying to figure out
Rorscach ink blots forming images
on his memory
bouncing round in similes
metaphors trying his patience to the limits
finding balance on the paper thin
edges
the finite experiences
his imagination pushing him
to every limit

in twilight's dusk are most furious
those sounds heard when most are sound asleep can be curious
the tastes tasted of life's here and now
the scents
near and far
if taken serious
might bring a strong man to his knees
somehow, or a
cautious virtuous woman
to her demise,
so tend the echoes carefully
see into the  myst most warily
behold the dawn with eyes open
smell like a scent hound
the variances
eye the echoes
as a bat
crawl
the corners careful