pencil-packin' up the Jackass Trail....
intentions bein' to pick up the mail....
tripped and fell on a holy quail...
it was one of those days, like a windless sail,
...
breathing....hard
looking for
its
something(s) often neglected...
...
trundles 'round on the deck....
the naysayers fumin', tsk-tsk,
foam flecks..
.on the gun'ls, that spray,
...
beings from other planes, dimensions,
may find us fare, for prime ingestion....
red and blue dogs....beings, pasty...
all in a stew...may prove quite tasty....
...
in a poke-it-with-your-finger sort of way.....
.... a vestibule punctuated with familiarly random pinholes....
there are those.....
...
groaned up the hill....tight curve.....one lane.....
could've walked...run down the trail....would've been there before the bus....
wouldn't have heard Phil say goodbye to his spotted pup, 'See ya later, Mozzzart......'.
...
have you seen the pigeon toad....
cooing wartly 'cross this road...?
I've come to take him home to tea...
to serve him toast points, jellied flies,
...