Alan Ginsberg Lives in My Left Intestine
Mary found a dinosaur egg
in her closet
The stork was the latest victim
Of rye bread and corned beef we speak
dancing in the everglades
A pale moon worshiped the morning sky
Trauma aboard the toy boat in the bathtub
incestuous conversation in the lobby
Golden pianos warm up the soup
Flying ninjas escalate the fight over
landfill’s gold reserves
Barf is, too, a clinical term
Jasmine Crockett, not Davy
Larry Bird, not Admiral
Eisenhower, Stevenson and Kennedy
Three Flyways
Computers yield to the abacus
tummy ache, all better
Suburban lawnmowers on the prowl, daddy
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