SERIAL SURREAL NO BOWL

the seed burst thru the window

at an angle to the plane of spine

and with the space of the paper intact

we were all going somewhere

the cut-off switch was no longer working

*

a horn blew in an empty field

and a world began-one of many

*

open the can of sidewalk

and read the water

better days coming

when the scars in the sky

coalesce around a choral fart

and Jesus learns to make better biscuits

*

I like when the legend of rain

outsaves it's uselessness

a bliss of corruption sets in

some overdetermination of surface appeal

surfaces even further

perhaps even crossing some line of contempt

even unto a violation of oracular space

*

the words that I love

and on whose side I try to be

words like: I love you

or: wave of labor unrest

or: prom queen mauled by tiger

*