Thursday, July 1, 2021

Three Poems, J.D. Nelson

yes, that yarn
that hulk is the saint of the foster of chains
to use that mork of the spider monkey
this is the house of the gumdrop wound
we get the morning in the eye to hear us now
the tongue becoming that house is the dream of the world
the day of the frog
to truck one of the filthy eyes
not a show of the potato
we get that smurf of the corner
to forage for that gum
to learn of the window lint
the egg and that dollar mouse
the inside wolf was a weapon
the song of the simple apple
that hair transplant is the griffin of the morning egg
language is the tree of the iron maiden sufi

the color of the yarn is the mood of the import bench

earth is the broken house to name the gum of the world
to slim down after that crumb is the phone number

not a knot of the power cooking day
you are the machine of the wolf’s lung

sugar the dollar doll was a cornerback
the bill ball of the wash-ing-ton

the wooden fault is the saltine darn
would you like to be the soup of the cardinal universe?

that dollar is the hen of the dregs
the wooden nut was a knuckle of the earth

in dust there was a zebra coin to gallows earth the pudding
the great frog of the inside face to win a lecture

the alignment of the crown is the normal story and we feel the welch’s
when we get there will there even be a mars?

sterile corn yarn

the land of the gland of the people
the bacteria on the hand of the daybreaking huck

earth names a flight pattern
we are without the cranberry toad

we hear the nile in our sleep
all I can say with that dream to get there

we can hear the billowing hand of the iron noun
the broken hand of the iron french to be myrtled

the new inside language to be roasted with that pepper
one morning is the brain of the trout

the iron trout ducks the sentence of the night to wander and I do
the fierce tantrum is the balloon of the ghost banana

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