He is off to devour the babysitter
No need for shoes in the summer heat
No need for pants inside the house
Three steps at a time, claws awhir
Teeth aching to crunch the bones of his Brazilian prey

Sometimes I remember to move carefully around his loud, joyful willingness
Or I don't remember
And tear out a fat chunk of adventure with a stinging rebuke

But he is a T-Rex with two tons to spare

I hear a dinosaur knocking at my door
I think he always wants a little more

I understand they find dinosaur bones there in your backyard. Big ones. I've never been to your house or even close to that neighborhood, but ever since you've written me, I am completely intrigued. What you said about me, I think about you in an execrable Hemingway way, maybe as in his "Death In The Afternoon." All the goring. Faintheartedness is nothing to be carried by bullfighters or by bone hunters, I suppose. If there were a way of going back to days of nobler more romanticized slaughtering in bullrings, without the controversy, I'd have to say it is more evident in our modern day Jurassic Park flicks where nerdish paleontologists are transformed into  fiendishly handsome toreadors.

I know I'm not making much sense. Bullfights and dinosaur rustling, what's to compare? One being non-civilized though colorful and bathetic, the other fantastical but forgivable because the beasts bite back. Oh, if only I could explain these machismo machinations. What a ruse. How song and dance does intrigue. Please write me again from South Dakota. I'd like to book one of those dusty dinosaur tours before I go extinct.  Bone hunts, bullfights, same difference.

It waits
for the exact moment
to lunge at its prey
hidden in the ferns and fauna
fangs like butcher knives
lodged deep in its throat
a gurgling sound is heard
through the dark shot of brush
whistling the trembling leaves.
And there’s not one or two,
but three of them, crouched low
so near to me that I can hear
their heavy reptilian nostrils
breathing in and out
they are my nightmares
ready to devour
but I am not scared
because they are only vicious creatures
in a dream
and I am a dinosaur wrangler
and I know what I’m doing.

Tripping' to sleep after the departure of the ******* puppets & scarecrows from new depth of perception.
dreaming will into existence. The day of the dinosaurs has come and gone.
We are but Tourist on this trip, So lets just watch the flowers bloom. Floating on the mist of a cold summer moon.
Lets us breath in the beauty all around us.
Triangles in the night sky,visions in our eyes
Circles around us,psychic tyranny
Beauty even in death. Its good to be alive

plastic dinosaur
made from fossil oil -
  recursion