Anthropomorphization

Feels Derivative

Ah, that dreaded dog-eared page
on this, the day of my footballs game.
Beefheart would have put it best,
but I certainly can’t hold it against him,
poor chap.

Maybe now I can come back from
under his shadow. I think he’d like that
very much.

I never got the chance to thank him
or say bye (good or otherwise), but
as I reconnect to the planet at large
he somehow knows.

Maybe he’s commanding his love infantry,
and all I need is to follow the leader.
It feels derivative, but screw it.

Son’s Metal ‘Phant

Son’s metal ‘phant–
the oldest and wisest of all
the terrestrial mammals
that we’ve uncovered to date–

has an uncanny ability to get under one’s skin
in a matter of minutes, though

you’d think that such a gigantic specimen
would have trouble assimilating themselves
into such a tight space.

Fortunately for us (and, indeed, the world at large),
proportionality has no place here.

Public or Private

Pudgy pigeons
pluck plinko players
from plaid plundering,
piracy never preferred
over pragmatic pilgrimages
(purchased with privilege
and pursued with primeval
predilections). Predictions
produce practically no pressure
in this prideful pageant, Professor–
public or private.

With a Vengeance

I thundered through the threshold,
enthralled by many a porcupine diary–

when will we ever learn the true everlasting
Constantinople cantaloupe constitution?
I reckon never, though many local geniuses
think there’s a global phenomenon unfolding
with a vengeance.

I can only postulate,
though the post-latte high
seems to have stalled for a moment,
just briefly enough to incriminate
the most experimental of dancers
both near and far.

We’re still left baffled
by Hemingway’s cat collection,
but a learned individual once told me
that the more toes a feline has, the closer to
ultimate self-actualization
the beholder becomes.

Shotgun or no shotgun,
there’s quite a bit of cortex
to bandy about all willy nilly
if you’re willing to lose a day or two
to the unbending, unaltered
chimpanzee rhetoric machine.
Oh lord, I’ve lost
too many days
to count.

Beg to Differ

The alligator
prefers the ditties
over the deities,

though the allocator
would beg to differ.

Longing

I track my razors
how a bird of prey
tracks its ancestors’ nest locations:

stealthily
and otherwise full of a longing
that I can’t begin to understand
without years of intense psychotherapy.

Pastimes

Pastimes indicative of passion incarnate sweep themselves well past the staircase of emotional stagnation and scoop out higher understanding, as though our state of being affords us the time to crank out our pulp and surrender our wills to the greater good (otherwise known as that giant lizard occupying the innermost outhouse amongst the outer rings of the planet we currently refer to as Saturn).