18 Looking for an Opening

Come whittle away the halves
of the greyhound's hairbrush.


The Great Unlimited Lightning Machine,

minus undesirable fiberglass

nighties, stuffed in during the
masquerade,

awaits 'The Runt', purported to be
the only man capable

of turning the switch

back from the dead.

[Cue guitars].


Ahh, Miss Thorne's 'tortuous' cardigan
and stylish aromas...

a quick mount in the back of the
while-u-wait appliance store,

risking a complementary custody

in some serious chains.


Our jelly hearts fluttering,

unfortunate reminders of former
anniversaries:

the pleading and harassments,
capped off with melting 'emeralds';

the thrashing like canines,
wide girths draped across
mohair modules;

the best stilt movie ever ruined
by commandos;

and the traumatic gurgle
of bacon-induced cardiac arrest.



The Skin Graft Bat
respires anomalously,

its wax corneas
yet one more edible.


Medical bicycles as ever fall
apart in the talcum mines

due to uncontrollable rumps'
coughing backfire.


A never-to-be rescued
'pearl' oven

rears backwards in the canal.



Chairman Half-a-Nothing,
(who was certifiable)

shone ever crimson,

an uncouth 'star'

up one big green itch:

the partial skeletons
of pygmy models

spin in the company
roulette wheel.


His lost list of favorite naps

tucked under a broken ashtray.

17 Pride of the Clothes Hamper

Lightning shone girth of Half-a-Nothing
minus anniversary nightie, pride of
the clothes hamper; awaits flaunting.

Another day in the fiberglass mines.


'The Runt' purported to have played
caddie yesterday, for the new
Jellyfish Parliament. Back from the dead

and conscripted
by the sheepish locals,

via Miss Darling Thorne.


This is what she said,
in list form...That is,
in list form, she said it:

"-Ever talcumed rump, always apart.
-Unlimited compliments in crimson.
-Stylish custody in chains.
-Anomalous smells."

A quick mount in the
oven and bacon store

not undesirable.


Backfire from the Mohair Module
melting their wax bicycles.

Neckties draped across
medical models gurgling trigonometry.

Emerald, pygmy skeletons
in the best ever stilt movie.


Skin graft bat,
pride of the clothes hamper.

16 "Emergency from Trauma Canal"

Half-a-Nothing, minus cardigan,
in the lightning shone girth
of the tortuous coal mine.

'The Runt' purported to have been
gassed yesterday.

Cue the smarmy locals
and their pointless promenade.


Parliamentary List of Accomplishments:

-ever Named, apart
-always talcum powdered
-unlimited salary reminders
-anomalous smells
-Rump Lotion Decree


Due to these
uncontrollably uncouth
chainstore celebrities,

Half-a-Nothing
and the Pygmy chairman
quick-mount
the Mohair Module,

risking the fallout
of its atomic backfire.

Bedlam in the picket line.


Waves of Jellyfish Commandos
on their wax bicycles

unfortunate reminders
of the formerly harassed.


Bacon neckties draped across
the back of the Mandarin Mammoth.

Canine medical models
stare. And then wink.

____________________________________


Whittle away the halves
of the greyhound hairbrush.

Feet skip rope
in surrounding buildings.

Behold the edible
skin-graft bat!


Fitful respiration
from the crocheted jukebox

coughing up one last
big green news flash...

EMERGENCY FROM TRAUMA CANAL