camouflage matrix
# 1st goodbye slitherin blue diamond-back reel
a subway flash inside a wigwam
must be vagabond neighbors toking a ruse intake,
sculpting perforated global designs,
aborigines shifting into
notable traders for magic mushroom doormats
some bypassed outcasts,
sentimental parasites,
once fished along wasted banks
refusing flowerpower top jobs,
recycled renagade bookstores
runnin outa ink
instead short segments were seen from inside tiny episodes,
reparations for blank coffee cups,
clover gold hay collages
staring back at paranoid spectators
through drunken bottles of Rosy O’Grady
“Say Meester, please take me to my friend Eddie’s house???”
“Cant you climb out over your toothpick diving board yourself, kid?”
wonder if the top comes off the wrapper,
spread out against some case history
exposing prospectors digging for jade black concept cigars,
dome curve expanses,
sky green carrots,
pollen carotene takebacks
some cowboys groove away on ranches
far out domestic interlude of seaboard shafts,
licking their strawberry donuts,
grinding away on their imported coffee beans
while modeling grilled tomato braziers
we heard cool-type drainpipes evaporate penguin clay,
hard thing to describe
very photographic
insomnia backyard movement
attracts 61 Radio City monks all kicking in time,
in line
so sublime
portraying lite satisfaction
from this green hosiery marathon:
“Hey Eddie, will you chaperone this gringo
on his first furnished beard haircut?”
cross over repair work needed
when uninvited company follows their victim down the dry causeways,
another victorious drumbeat insomnia backyard movement
blasted to bits!
inducing the landscape to shift beneath our feet
gives the cleanup crew
just enough time to grab an open token.
Tucson, 4/74