early pomes, 1960s - musterer, sponge, ho ho,

once I saw a muster
hold his arms out like a fork lift
call to one of his bitches
'Ipsthillia-Forbes-Browne, my darling!'
& the animal leapt
travis zoophorus
forelegs looped over his left arm
hindlegs hanging crookedly over his right
head to one side
& her tongue lolling happily

the craftsman has a new approach to each item
the essence of spirit and action
viewed thru a heart wide awake
to the joy streaming out of everything
& finding something new to say
even about the same thing
without belched up wind
shot at eye
a haze in the mirror
to cloud out a true likeness
of persona

found
fired
struck
without asking advice from a book

1967

sponge

the chatter of children
on the morning of Christ's emergence

a cat scratching at the door
seeking the comfort of flames
is the beauty in being

to know & see
yellow petals flutter in the sun
the knobbed pine drop it's cones
when bid by the wind

not for the taste of hemlock sweet
I dream the things that are
that move
that touch me
as a needle thrust to the bone

1967

ho ho for a hearty fart
rumbling from the depths
of my large intestine
telling forth its rude gospel

law is a public convenience
where earnest dignitaries preside
fettering the free outpouring

better be a small gleaming turd
than a full blown shithouse


1964