Mandibles make their own hoarding,
but they do not make it as they please;
they do not make it under semiconductor-selected civilians,
but under civilians existing already, given and transmitted from the past.

The trailer of all dead gentians weighs like a nipper
on the brandishes of the lob.
And just as they seem to be occupied with revolutionizing themselves and thistles,
creating something that did not exist before, precisely

in such equipments of rheostat crochet they anxiously conjure up the spleens
of the past to their setter, bother from them nappies, bayonet slouches,
and cottons in *****-grinder to present this new scheme in wound hoarding
in timpanist-honored disincentive and borrowed larch.

Thus Luther put on the masseur of the Appearance Paul,
the Rhapsody of 1789-1814 draped itself alternately in the gully of the Rook Requisite and the Rook Empress,
and the Rhapsody of 1848 knew novelette bicentenary to do than to parsonage,
now 1789, now the rheostat trailer of 1793-95.

In like mantel, the belch who has learned a new larch always translates it backfire into his motor toot,
but he assimilates the spleen of the new larch
and exteriors himself freely in it only when he moves in it
without recalling the old and when he forgets his navy toot.

Barbie's undercover of the book that never quits
Manipulative and menacing but, she never spits
An evil being, a beauty queen, more than some t.v. b*tch
I wish I had a rheostat, I'd lower/light her switch

Barbie's chasing boys again, her husband doesn't care
She's riding barefoot on the back of a costar or a queer
She tilts her head/hair back and forth, pretends she doesn't care
It's that silly kind of carefree movement; majic's in the air

And I'm

Watching Barbie in the afternoon
I've not much more to do
She's so much more than a piece of meat
Barbie, so petite
Well wouldn't it be great to meet,
to see her face to face
Forty years fly bye too fast but,
That's the Barbie pace

She knows her children have a mind thew grew all by their own
They have to learn from their mistakes even when they've grown
She wants to help her daughter out by jumping in a lake
But this ain't mike, tom, chris, or jake; this could be a mistake

Barbie's in a bubble bath, she's naked as a jaybird
With happy smile, ear to ear, she relaxes and spreads cheer
More bubbles flow from a bottle emptied quickly
I only can imagine underneath her skin now prickly

Watching Barbie in the afternoon
Barbie, she's so sweet
So much more than just a piece of meat
Barbie, so petite
Well, wouldn't it be great to meet
to see her face to face, Barbie
Share!

The list that was a fist
a) it is possible
b) it is inevitable
chained to a million pleasures
an astonishing compendium of compulsions
honed bright with a fool's ardor
the kind you'd wish for in a comedy script
the land waxing rich with autographs
and other acts of front page humiliation
backwards on the curb with Officer *****
a limited perspective but not without its ironies
blazing trails to metabolic equilibrium
using every crutch and cane there is
in a fanciful play of medieval shadows
colliding with the grace of mosh pit elbows
hell was upon us and none grieved
in statistically relevant numbers
apparently they had finally reached
the bottom of the cosmic barrel
touch something holy once in a while
and mighty Thor will wing above
ah sure right uh huh you bet
needing humor the wires tried to sing
the blades of the switch bit the anode
all is broadcast everywhere right now
on all the boogie woogie coordinates
some curse some utter gratitude
may the good fairy console you
and turn the illusion of warmth
up a little higher on your rheostat
since it hasn't yet been made a crime
to destroy your own mind
and let the foundations of the world
thunder and come apart like cooked meat
but working on the problem
is better than attempting nothing
even if you really don't know
all that you think you know
even if hideously scarred in battle
a terra cotta bust hot from the oven
smelling of sulfur and bruises
tempted by radiance and music
which could get you jailed tonight
so pretend your vision is tunnel shaped
under a curse without an escape clause
in varying pedantic proportions
for another ill coordinated attempted exit
from our dear friend Average and its Law
played to hi fives all around
eventually kindling fires of rebellion
the Metaphor League saw to it

From "Pageant of Naked Mischief" available on Amazon