egg of hooch

How many glasses of water
Can a heron hide in a field of tall grass?
Like a boiled unpeeled egg on a huge
Detrimentally white plate is a piece of fate,
Tables and chairs lost in a crumpled space
Have legs to wander, and a bottle of hooch
Is a photograph of Homer (the very guy who
Hadn’t written the hymns), and centaurs roam
To shed their hooves in front of the imminent nonsense
And impregnate the mares;
The offspring invariably end up with the FBI.

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6 thoughts on “egg of hooch

  1. CHARLIE ZERO:
    SHOULD YOUR TEARS BLOCK YOUR TONGUE
    YOU MAY BORROW MY POETIC PLIERS
    PUBLISH FREELY—-NO PINCH, NO PUNISH
    NOT SO PAINFUL AS SURGERY
    —THE NUB OF YOUR EXCHANGE—
    UNDRESS IN PUBLIC POETRY
    HOPELESSLY NAKED IN A DITCH FLARF
    73 LAYERS OF DISGRACE
    BARRICADES
    I WAS WITNESS TO YOUR ILLEGITIMATE SPURT
    SUFFOCATED DABS OF VOCABULARY
    WORDS FOUND ON A BROWN PILLOW
    WORDS BORN WITH SHORT LIMBS
    JELLY-LIKE JISM WITH A HEARTBEAT
    LISTED AS SELF-SACRIFICE SODOMY
    *busy dissociating oneself as a user of words

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  2. How many glasses of water ?
    latitudeless fluid
    HALLUCINATORY
    herons with yellow eyes
    incestuous doublings
    trying to hide
    long thin legs
    blue anxiety feathers
    sheltered glasses in the grass
    poor people with boiled eggs
    really poor folk refuse to peel them
    white plates laugh at heterosexuality
    tables and chairs with mysterious qualities
    innocent playfulness
    excessive measuring
    unworthy perfection
    angels, cherubim, and seraphim
    passing out photographs of Ivan
    double life hooch drinking poet
    consummated in the honeymoon bed
    the reader and the alcohol
    a charming new world
    science fiction horse shoes
    children from the Book of Revelation
    children with hooves that tap dance
    Kentucky Derby children
    victimized by the lack of oxygen
    the pressures of running in front of endless eyes
    conveying the urgency of the win—of the read
    to submit to deification—Ivan opens another bottle

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    • THE WORKINGS OF DESTINY—DISTURBING
      NOTHING MASCULINE BUT THE ROOT-ORGAN
      CLAUSTROPHOBIC POETRY
      SIMPLE, CINEMATIC AT BEST
      EMOTIONAL CLUTTER THROWN FROM THE ARK
      BLOND HAIRS ON THE BEACH

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