Gasket and Flange

Gasket: I am a finance.

Flange: False pigeons in the drift.

Gasket: Lions primed for porridge from island sources.

Flange: Gutted with crystal honey, left to bow and grift in the country department store.

Gasket: Batter lines the escalator courts, and above, with a potential space between, condensed experience.

Flange: Like a nightmare fretting out spools of dumb antipathy from its perforated head.

Gasket: The wayward sotto voce of grandparents, who dare not approach open flame.

Flange: Voice built into ballast, weighing carved nights under night, shock and rest in union transparent.

Gasket: Mnemonic monogamy soars true above acropolis.

Flange: Fond, serpiginous wending shoots the match to Arenaria’s side.

A Fairly Direct Line of Thought, for Once

Most listeners wouldn’t think a pop singer too technical, overly scientific,
For saying, “You are Oxygen to me,” or, “I need Oxygen,”
Metaphors a mere step above pedestrian, familiar.

It wasn’t until the 1770’s that Oxygen was discovered.
Three scientists found it three different times that decade.
Priestley didn’t name it, but he knew it came from plants,
Made a candle burn, and kept a mouse alive under glass.

I am invited to a lab where high levels of Oxygen are said
To make an organ perfect for transplantation,
And a patient come back if lost briefly during operation.

It’s not like singing about hemoglobin or kinases,
But the cloud of its uses expands
From energy shots to resurrection. No conviction, no restraint.
Lyrically brethren to “heart,” as lyrics outpace and define

The poverty of our consensus.

Please Step Around This Forest, and Please Step Into the Food Truck I Build

 

 

Miriam Paperweight Finale

Object removal services are so cheap!
I think I’ll use the extra funds for Bingo.
If the MC stands close,
And if we palaver, so what?

You keep making faces
Like you disapprove of a chosen number,
But you’ve been doing well;
It doesn’t flatter you to smoosh your lips.

The cargo of my airplane will be black
And gold, weigh thirty-six hundred
Pounds, and bite as a trained animal
The final thief, who is even now arriving.

Professor Derrip Employs the Hermeneutic of Directionality, With and Without Advantage

The sense of your words was misleading, the phrasing direct.

I have tried desperately to avoid looking at the brim of the bowl,
Truly believing an unfretting, forward gaze
Talismanic, foolproof.

You speak a copper wire into headspace,
A nimbus of metal lengths to bring looters
Encircling.

Gold henna about the forearm,
Fine hairs drowsing in the scattered glow
Cant forward and back and decisively

Walk up to touch free air.

Pas d’OGM dans mon miel !

Clearing House