hopeless in idaho or dealing with constant interruptions while trying to think, much less write

Receptor sector, stand straight down,
signal under the usual
rude serpentine scramble attack.

Yes it is unfortunate that
drills such as these are now routine,
but the complex is in a state

that officially despises
types that thrive where quietude blooms.
Processors too, stand straight down.

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gonna test them all if I must

Come To Timmy

the ball of heat rolling along
a dry section of ground… come on,
section is terrible; sucks bad,
come on, what about dry terrain?
Obviously, it’s gonna be

damn dry now – but where else can balls
packing heat as this beachball-sized ball
roll along without a pansy
summoning volunteers?
So anyway, the ball was

rolling along though not so fast
doing what good proper balls
were from the genesis blast
intended to do, which was and is
to roll along and saying ‘sorry’

no more than once in a mauve moon.
So where in the dickens did this thing
intend to take a curvy journey?
Seems there is a sighing sagebrush club;
sighing hardly the word; more like huffing,

something like, “why did we bother
to memorize dialogue lines?”
Suddenly the ball quit rolling
and piped, “yeah I’m hot stuff alright,
but I’m hardly an arsonist.”

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one more test before bedtime

adventures pulling up the juncture
could not at all mind the sweet sticky deal
coming as a complete surprise

plunging to the depths processors
able to claim ancient pedigree.
Electricity a participant,

the haywire effect makes perfect sense.
But how could who is partially sane
too terribly mind that smoky stench?

True, few are exactly happy
trees once full of sap in a flash
were changed into monuments of charcoal.

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testing a new technique

As always eyes gazed blind
at the phenomenon most obvious
which means a repeat ladder clamber

and make the missionary fuzzy, as in,
there was a fuzzy missionary
and this fuzzy missionary’s bosses

decreed he journey to a distant country
fixed as though screwed in a tropical sea;
alas the fuzzy missionary’s bosses

were in the dark about secret weaknesses
which for a fellow were not abnormal,
but for a missionary, even a slick

missionary, this kind of concealment
could hardly honor the reputation
of the boss even bigger than the fuzzy

missionary’s immediate bosses.
Well, hindsight, spilled milk, and all that jazz
indeed amounts to surplus info, much like

the marijuana in Washington.
Once he sunk his senses in coconut meat
and slid his toes in seaweed, it was finished.

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so maybe the missionary field was the calling after all

admittedly the mission is fuzzy
but in a minimum sense, which really
might come out funny when floating with clouds,
through memory’s haze the theme calls it space.

But go easy on these missionaries
whose travels have given them thirsty lust
for a frosty, thick-headed beer
served by a short-skirted, thigh-friendly thing

whose hair flows like a licorice cascade
and with strawberry lips just rightly ripe;
all topped with a breeze disrupting July.
Now I wanna be a missionary.

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this poem contains the first glimmer in long time

Consciousness topics interest
me a lot, to such an extent
that when the heat is high I camp
around so-scented article
counties and townships, however,
keeping sacred virtues apart

as experiential teachings
affirm that wisdom is aware
that going out guarded is good;
besides, writing days have drifted
into an access denial
status, textures losing ridges

even as this line gives a gaze
towards nothing particular
due to a dumbfounded wonder
about why it even exists.
Ah, the smell of a disastrous
poetic edifice meadow!

And where there is a poetry
disaster scent, a scented slit
promising slickness is oft close.
That would be the good news. The bad
news is actually a happy
tide: at last I wrote a mudslide.

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the war of atmospheres rages, rages

the sneaky slimy sun
was not always a sneaky
slimy sun but had gone
over to this dark dank side

during a time when stresses
aimed brute blazes directly
into quarters once assumed private
and allowed no space in which

to chill a bit; calmly swerve
or sway as a mood (mood
here presumably mellow)
might saunter along to suggest

and with a languid yawn
send to the damp lawn tranquil
vibes; again invading blaze brutes
came hellbent on quelling joys like these

and sadly for what had been sunshine
sleek, fit, quietly bold, the invaders
are currently erasing the forests,
and plan to criminalize oddities.

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