J. D. Nelson

that laid-back brick might be the real me

                              – R. C. N.

the telephone was ringing. I was rushed out of the room.
I went down into the mud like a centipede.

               the chime worker
the chimer

summa the filter
the whu

& learning to clark
that makes a shark

a croo
ked croc

no more than the forest cone

I’ve spent it

Sept looks like there was a case of the cans

               what is golden grass?
                                             is it real gold?
                              is it real grass?

the spider why

the pegboard pink little lamb

circle oh

the lemon of the noontime sky

oh how sour

earth gets half

earth will be all right when I get back with the sun


the box on the bus
in donut time

gold cable
or kringle

legal pad yellow
old saturday on the garden planet

my brain was throbbing by noon
inside now with the winning eggs

clark lemon 27

wearing a clown hat
please use the hardwired egg

when one becomes the next & so on
that old neighborhood frog

look for the sun among the stars
& not that old look-alike

maybe the storm will pass over

earth is ahead of itself

stick the pick up
one shrink
               love it cool

stop shaking the madeline apple

was it a lucky hum with that gee

to win some
maybe at a fair

a spear of apple is sweeter

this is the thinking something

what is the thinking? stop
& stopping

this is the wheeled head

this is the frontal machine
from that old world

this is the dream of the control
& that yes, now

an explosion on the news
the wall of the house was blown away

the eyes will surprise you

the next now

robotic hands in fire
something like a lake

everyone saying have at it
you need to name the high lions

western ted doesn’t see the benefits
of being stung by a jellyfrosh

straggle out here

this is a machine speaking

why is there no area code
when I reach out to fix it

how is the mustard
from this angle

creature of the light
redone in blue

locks like a lion
reach for the appreciation cloth

mmm... orange

starting with this text
on this planet of wildflowers

hands in benzine,

the hydra is a little worried

silver nitro the
car topper
to crave a nike

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published poems. Nelson lives in Colorado.
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