I Am Parched for Blood and So is My Cat (Tiger, I Discovered Later)

 Pounce! Friend feline and I
are knitting the most devious
of plans to scratch you to bits
and ferry you through the mid
atlantic in a barrel of human..

Tiger, I should mention. He is
a tiger, and I, the big battleship
captain, that grey-tint wetsuit,
we are jetting thru a jungle of
strange things to get near you.

Put up your skin-sheatht ulnae
and prepare, for we are to jump
for the heart at 7:46am. 'Tis an
early battle, yes, but, better to
be beautiful among fog & dew

Or go away. These, your newy
options. Yea. Tiger and I have
decided if you are to run that:
we shall not run after. Shame
on you for that something sin!


Made in Vermont

Ginger ate gingersnaps;
Sandy, yes, pecan sandies
Abigail ate the bedsheets.

UNtil,
One afternoon, Abigail
pulled the teeth from her
face in a bloodied-gummy
rind and said, "You girls
and your cookies.
Harumph!"


Nights on the de Havilland Comet

I was in love with your faceheck, your checker-board face,
your grumbling pussel-make, your wistful harmonic lippps
I was in love with your blonde hair curled curly curlings of
wound curls the vomit of the sun, the vomit of that yellow;
bedlam in your mouth, bedlam on the backs of your teeth & 
the backs of your eyelids: I was in love with the purple kiss
ed bruise resonant on all your thighs like freckles, spott-ed.
I was in love with your flowerneck, your rope-knotty youth


You Will Also Want Sturdy, Close-Toed Shoes With a Good Grip That Will Get Wet

IN the rush I found him wallowed, welter,
hollowed-hallowing &shallow swallowing
that's pulpy chew and triangle-teeth, that's
the alligator, that one we saw last year, too.
Hot vibrato and chocked-knock squawking
that dock-frock, the moss harbor of cedar"
the not-talking and grunting of gator-gears
Watch him now!! Get under, slime up your
pant legs and crouch low, so as to get him
at the nose and let him breathe up your wr
ists; this year'e's ours, that thing. Never a
gain. Never ever again, the shoe-screwing
and the glue brewing the Ssioux City july.

I want his skin to walk on, and his eyes to
put in my fishbowl; I want his teeth for a
comb a comb, and a comb, and his tail 4
a belt! Get under, you, I'll get over, make
him straight on me, and he won't even thi
nk to spin round and get you, you'll get hi
m! Get under! Gnash back at the smashed
hack the gushed jack the smack Smack.!!
I'll not let him away, not ever. Never again
never ever again, never ever ever again, I
tell you. Hold his jaw close, you, Hold it!


Neither Shalt Thou Be Moved With Any Pity in His Regard

His name was sewn into his chest pocket,
Bud, which was his full given name, as he
said when he pulled the order report which
was secured in a flat clipboard at the desk.

"What you need a bone-saw for, anyhow,
boy?" I twiddled the Ace hardware pen in
between my forefinger and middle, like a
magician. "My uncle has meant to own it,
and so then I mean to procure it." I lied..;

"Ain't in yet," he said, looking for his sun
flower seeds that sat like a lot of sunflower
seeds in a bag. He had one of those old-fa
shioned pencils in his chest pocket too, that
touched sewn "Bud," the kind with a clip.

"I'm going to cut off my hands," I said, at
once deciding it might speed the delivery
if I gave it a reason. "Hands?" He asked.
"How do you spect to get to the other one,
when you're halfway?" It was seriousness

"Oh, I suppose Charlie'll help me with that
last bit. He's back for the summer, and he's
been itchin' for a purpose." Bud stared me
down, and held his cell phone holster hard,
which I thought meant he would call *911

"Is this tongue in cheek, boy? You giving
me a bit of lip there, huh?" (He, asking))
"No, sir. Charlie's a good boy." And then
silence. "No bone-saw today, Russell. Tell
them hands to wait." A clap of thundering

"You'll send for me, though?" I asked, "so
I can get it through, quick?" "Of course I
will, Russell. Now get home." I was a sick
dog and hop-scotched through the parking
lot, watching the rain hint to storm. Black

Charlie was home, the t.v. groaning with
an idle lament, and he at the couch like a
captain, eating pretzel sticks. I boxed up
the gauze and gloves and waited for a call