A Perverbial CritterPeter Jay Shippy
after Harry Mathews When my cock yaps I tug The curtain I flare I frug Mash banana into instant Oatmeal instantaneously Plug my moat with caffeine My ear with spleen: griots In Paris bombé in Mumbai It’s against laws of Kansas For chimps in Kansas to eek! With their hands I floss I lace Teethe I squeeze my head Into the socket I thread My neck into striped tie And press I press the maxim Procreator’s red button: You Can't run with the hares And hunt with a man Who has no feet—true as blue Piss but lacking luster On the gustometer so I rethrust: Do not use A hatchet to remove a fly From the skeleton In your family closet. That one doesn’t quite roll Off the rolled tongue. I try One last time: Money makes The world go out like a lamb Keeping company with the wolf At the end of your sleeve. I try to envision those words In henna on my withered Bicep—nope. Can’t man join The rat race without precepts? Do dogged pursuits purloin Pure prosody? Hey: Am I A window-licker or A windjammer? Answer? Answer: after sundown I Let down my hair extensions Burn clothes close eyes hear Edison recite: Mary had A little hair of the pup That bit her with the same bait. Answer: Warp! Answer: Woof! Answer: Run, Mary, run!
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