Frontier

A healthy schnitzelfritz
is all we would need
for a cut-rate Dependence Day
on the Frontier of Many Puddings.

Ever since the rolling scabies epidemic
took its time crossing the Ganges,
twelve men have made it their business
to carve necklaces from oak stumps
as a way of reconnecting
with their wood nymph sides
while honing their dedication
to sculptural accessorizing.

After all those mentions of scriptural evangelizing, our Maker’s Dozen–as they like to call themselves–made the executive decision to secularize the whole process and peddle the wares of their ingenuity for a tidy profit (at least, wherever flea markets intersect with local art exhibitions).

One mustn’t mistake this ingenuity
for dogmatic commitment to peculiar crafting,
as these enterprising young monks
would be the first to tell you.
Frankly, these fellows have
a bit of a competitive streak in them
that has yet to be beaten out
by assumptive authoritarians,
and a near-endless supply
of stump-grade dynamite
only served to seal the deal.

Milquetoastery

Full, rich dunwoody grey
Eisenhauer beetle nuisance contraptions–
nether regions never unlinked.

Stoneworthy boysenberry preservatives
prattle on for the sole purpose of
gentrifying the least-suspicious ones
of any given group:

those righteous pioneers
of evangelical milquetoastery
who never fail to make straw hats
look more elegant on anybody but them.

Straw hats, beanies, pork pies,
snapbacks–their notion
that any headwear
is better than
no headwear
is a flat-out lie.