Wrapped around your finger, like a towel around an agitator. Lost my glasses in the dishwasher looking for you. The blow-dryer went out with a bang and now my hair has powder burns. The dining room light is out and I can’t see what I am eating. Tastes like sawdust anyway.
belching and smoking
with a purpose…
The traffic light said GO; smash! The insurance company raised my rates to see if I bleed. All this from a fortune-teller who asked me how I was going to get home. Found my toupee in the lint trap. You never liked it anyway. If only I could borrow enough money to live like a lottery winner, there would be more cheese in the fridge. Our dirty laundry is on the clothesline. When will the cows come home? All I know is if you add detergent, and put quarters in the slot, I’ll spin like a top with bubbles until the laundry mat is closed.
Kama Sutra Blues…
for all positions
What if you could paint your own sky? Would it be a Pollock-inspired painting in primary colours? Define the outer edges. Of course, it’s all-over. Slice a piece out and recombine with other favourites from time to time. Heck, paint it black at noon.
On the road there is only an ageless man with the hands marked by illness. He is sitting on the sidewalk close to the traffic lights.
the bowl of a beggar
…..remember…..what the dormouse said…..
constantly receiving shipments
of sadness and sorrow.
So we slap on some of those
Happy Happy Joy Joy stickers
and soon as you can say it
those suckers are snapped up
as if all folks need is a little
smiley face to stare back at
from the confines of their
Like with Bones – journal for the short verse, The Other Bunny ran an experiment with “I, me, my”-less work some of which have been published over the past weeks and months and there’s still a few in the pipeline.
Now this experiment is over and you’re free again to send works containing “I, me and mine”.
Johannes S. H. Bjerg – editor