Tag: Stumps

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.

Clumps – 00:14GMT

A bunch of clumps of pomegranate seeds in despicable climates—and rubber sapiens—ultimately climax at the wrong time for the wrong reason entirely. Because we supped upon tangible fruit of several looms, we had the shits for several days—as is proper. Building a future upon artificial cultivation seems probable, but foolish when you consider our penchant for throwing pigeon feathers at brick walls and expecting them to go right through. States of matter have always eluded us and laughed at our attempts to decode their pointless complexity, and today—more than ever—we find ourselves scratching the stumps that cap our necks in jovial wonder, slopping our spinach all over the sidewalk and stooping down to pet the short dogs that pant and pant at the bus stop, unaware that they don’t need to pay a fare.