Best Spavined Poems

darkness threatens
covers all
darkness threatens,
man's downfall

when comes the darkness
goes the joy
when goes the light
goes happy ploy...

...I dreamt a dream
just last night past
of a happy adventure we took
a subconscious repast

We took a ride, drove far away
we saw places bright, 'pon vistas we fawned
the places we went weren't...

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The heavy lead blocks
Feeling completely spavined
Ineluctable

Zymotic gulf like nihilism
Hollow skull starved
Explodes wherein of itself

The wells enlarge
And vomit happy
Under sunken stars

As Baryshnikov they
Perform deep under laps
Enveloped lightly and kingdom come

Pallid as an interwar prostitute
The ball in the stomach floating like a foetus
Intense maladies and ulcer-bile-black night...

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A nightmare
 after something I'd had, 
a cowboy film,
 the late-night news
 and Cervantes at bedtime.

On a spavined jade
the last of all the cowboys
with lean shanks
astride gaunt flanks
rides down
to Death Valley.

The last of all the cowboys
has soon put paid
to enemy tanks
along Stygian banks
way down
Death Valley.

Ever...

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The Blackpool donkeys have given up
they have boarded jumbo jets
to be emotional support animals
for those lesser angels
that protect us wingless fliers. 

They have opted out.
Once they used to plod from Blackpool pier
half a mile up, half a mile back,
day after day,
carrying kids and also others
that...

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Darkness coiled in the depths of the night.
Where shadows try to hide from your view.
The moon is a mirror reaching for the light.
Rattling on the doors grappling with the dew.

Cigarette rims on window ledges stub out edges. 
The marred ghosts of fear misty file foul...

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The Blackpool donkeys have given up,
they have boarded jumbo jets
as emotional support animals.

Once they used to plod between
the Blackpool piers
half a mile up, half a mile back,
day after day,
carrying whooping kids and adults
as they heavily jogged along;
fat thighs clapping sore ribs.

In a dulled daydream the...

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Feather-weighted by leagues of slumber
old beds reinventing themselves
as hammocks for the distilling 
of sweat and foam
into an archive of dreams.
 
Sprung mattress’ sag like spavined camels,
or twist days and nights together
into sheets stuffed with mental laundry.
Some beds have fallen comatose,
Only to wilt on the branches...

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Higgins was the worst Math teacher,
and that year I was his worse student.

Higgins had loose blubbery lips.
When he taught long division or algebra
his words were full of spit
and phlegm.

Higgins had big feet and he carried a large
thick-soled sneaker
which he threw at slow thinkers
It hurt
especially if...

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Should I start at the middle
and spiral outward?
I mean I don’t know what I’m doing,
just winging it.
I’m going to need some colorless beads
for the scarecrow eyes
of raw memories.

This is more a mandala thing,
a montage of the still evolving.
Maybe I’ll add a few straw stick figures
to...

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Old beds reinventing themselves
as hammocks for the distilling
of sweat and foam
into an archive of dreams.

Sprung mattress’ sag like spavined camels,
or twist days and nights together
into sheets stuffed with mental laundry.
Some beds have fallen comatose,
they wilt like boneless owls
in slumbering hollows.

Beds keep their history recorded
in the...

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Old beds reinvent themselves,
as archived hammocks for the distilling
of sweat and foam.

Sprung mattress’ sag like spavined camels,
or twist days and nights together
into sheets stuffed with mental laundry.

Some beds have fallen comatose,
they wilt like boneless owls
in slumbering hollow.

A young boy jumps up and down on his...

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