Insomnia Backyard Movement


camouflage matrix

# 1st goodbye blue diamond-back reel

subway flash inside wigwam

vagabond neighbors toking a ruse intake,

sculpting perforated global designs,

aborigines shifting into

notable traders for magic mushroom doormats

bypassed outcasts,

sentimental parasites

once fishing along wasted banks

refusing flower top jobs,

melted down Jane Mansfield bookcases

(after all these transitions

this pluma may run out of ink…

no tie flakes fall

bounce off garden hoses

running water

as everyone has walked away)

short segments seen from inside tiny episodes,

reparations for blank coffee cups,

clover gold hay collages

staring at stricken spectators through drunken bottles of Rosy O’Grady

“Say Meester, take me to my friend Eddie’s house???”

“Cant you climb out over your unhinged 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,

and 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 because

very photographic

insomnia backyard movement

attracts 61 Radio City monks all kicking in time,

in line


lite satisfaction

green hose marathon,

will you chaperone this gringo

on his first furnished beard haircut?

cross over repair work needed now.

an uninvited company follows its victim down the dry causeways.

what shall remains is whatever is not negotiated.


that gorgeous drumbeat insomnia backyard movement

blasted to bits!

inducing the landscape to shift beneath our feet.

just enough time to grab an open token.

Tucson, 4/74