How low can you get?
all the way down
to a pillow

fundamentalists, no fun
at all and mental... ?

where were we
when this plane landed
is...

weary of wearing weird widow's weeds
during this brief grief

it flows
into every flower
or lower

but you can't comb
the lox on a bagel

if one was done --
which gorge would be
most gorgeous?

the gourds in George's gorge
where porcine porkers forage

his new Jaguar
she smoothes again and again
the carpeting

in a catastrophe, who wins the trophy
and who gets the cat?

as the ear
of a pear tastes
the curvy space

eerie, dearie, but there ain't no wax
in the Erie canal

loud clouds
when you think of it
all is a wall

walnut, walrus, wallaby
even a Cronkite has a wall

overwhelmed
I steer by the table
as long as I am able

austere, my diet, try it
it's only wheat I kill to eat

they stand so tall
the eye rises to see
iris*

eyeing prices on prize rhizomes
trying buying

the besotted howl foul
as endangered fowl
the spotted owl

a speck without respect
now in the news' aspect

exciting
sighting a fly in my saucer
UFO cited

doing the butterfly stroke
grease eases into creases

flushing's not blushing
when one's discussing
toilets

without toil let us
oil our palms with alms

soundlessly sounding
salmon on the run
sound fishy?

if fish are shy, just think
how much of a bass is ...

honey bees
hover over clover
homing in-sting-tively

over in the cover leaf
title is the tit in titillate

without leaven
loaves for eleven
levitate

heaven was once haven --
thus, to have eaves near waves

under a duct-tape tarp
ducking the downpour
dozens of ducks

in the ark of his bark
the little dog turns into god

smudging the orchard
choking smoke from charred bark
scarred chard in rows

rose thorn echoes the shofar horn
buried in the burned urn

cannibals on cannibus
cavor in Grofe's Grand Canyon
can you believe it?

which witch on Solstice
will see the sun in seasons

*dedicated to the book Iris by Lesley Einer and June Walker

Summer 1995