Candice
Ward
| Riddle
Me This They speak to me of Texas, eagles, derbies--the helluvit is my winter of white step-ins--so they take my crowns for Kansas headbutts while biting balloons. They bait me to bed, ever boarded ahead of the class dunce. Feeling outflanked, this lady fingers the merchandise, singing the sand's airs way past time to clock passion's fruit: we'll have music music music! That big girl's blouse does housing, even the odd boy- friend; care for care, who can pulse to keep the beat of these mosaic cowlicks? She rushes from rodeo to video, dizzy with gills & gulls at an imp- ressionable age, my package to carry. Every month of Sundays beside herself, knowing the moon is not what it's cracked up to be, lying like a dime in my palm, where time awaits a gun--start me up! put me down! We get to two & carry the zero, the lonely number bar one: stir it up then & pay off the cabby, then riddle me this: if you die before I stop-- From the Constabulary Formulary When we left off trotting for skiing, lieder like stars in arrears, I took your name for bleach & whitewashed the future behind me: the blindest seer's shadow, the sweet gherkins that don't mind if I do. (Do I hear a tuba, sub rosa?) Jaysus, marry & plunk it, why don't you! In re holiday expectorants idly dubbing the rest of us gulden & jesuitic, I dreamed of mandarins as rinds of you & me, a baker's tune, a dozy endive we'd read the rushes by. A t'sk at eight's a gasket--abide it to market a snowbird, for silver dales do make good hill figures from some perspective, & I'm a maudlin dyspneac. My love is pinker than a Cadillac: you bet your luck it is. >>>Peter Howard
Back to Contents |
|||
| |
|