A Series of Serious Experiments

I. In the manner of Paul Muldoon

The slippery Egypt, internal,

peels open a lanky artery.

But it's true- you don't know

what it is you don't know,

as it drips toward a thin, pink infernal.

You may have some part of me,

but conditioner keeps it refined,

holding doors for thick synapses

and their frosted, elliptical glow.

Lettering - swooping like transience -

crunching cereal in a blue bowl

cannot stop your milky relapses;

finally, you emit a canine howl

and intestines scatter like waterfowl.

II. Form & Rhyme (formatting on the blog is bad; looks different on the hard copy)

I hear the sparrows singing, each to each.

I do not think they will sing to me.

She walks one step behind another

some small deference

some "Run For Cover!"

(The scent of pilfered sleep)

"Where are we going?" ask

frightened sheep

One soft mammal, now christened quickly

Has crystallized into something prickly

[With tiny muscles, the bird has fed

upon an object, ferociously dead,

he whips it now about his head]

"Hello my precious

tiny dancer."

"Shh, I'm lounging

in lung cancer."

Park Musings:

So crowded on a Monday afternoon - 

don't you all have work to do?