J. D. Nelson


the wheatgrass alpha

I am the monster of the wall
I am the doctor of the potato salad

                              tick
                              tock

the shoe of the locking half
the small work of the prince of the apples

               a fork in my salad
               an onion from orion’s belt garden

there is nothing in the laugh of the glue
the roasting machine is capable of naming the light

I’ve been pondering the skull of a dollar rose
we are without the science of the fiddle



to eclipse that strange young sun

the iron of the salted name
I am the cloning hand

shadowing a normal eye is the winter of the sauce
I’ve been thinking about the marble clown

I am moving the proven pyramid
I am playing the flute of the future

the wolf is the chamberlain of the help
so what if a lock shouts stranger normalities?

bargaining with a clone
the radio sage was the limited goof of the ultra

the sausage letter of the dental robes
I was alone in the milk for two raisins



why are you a new ant?

the gel is the dollar pie of the window
the diamond of the light speaks

that stalled effort is the motion
trusting a bubble is the crown of the flower

I am sporting a magic beard
science is a little bug

outshining the leopard in the grass
loving aloe in the lake for feathering

drinking the milk of the leaking dawn
I am the middle orchestrator of the nile



the duck of the prized sky

I am rowing a glass boat
we are in here

the particle noun of the sound
we are near the earth

the cloned apple
the winking clown

this is the strange bread of the forest
this is the glass paperweight

with the method of the crane
in the winter we will win

eating a healing aloe
the machine is using an eyelash to decide



coin bread

I was found in the grass with the machine
the hen of the pepper

friar tuck was a friend and he ate a heart of the bible
the shaking wolf of the first dollar I ever made

the coins in the rabbit’s basket 
leading the churn

my sight and the change of the letter
with the help of the charcoal

the dusting of the grumble and a peach
the lark is silent

the berry is the magnet of the soul
with sentences to go



a lending green is the chin of the wheels

there once was a duck who had fooled a cop
the milk partnership was a coil of the burnt-out name

there is a garden of glass in the north
we spend our coins on the rice of the miracle star

a spoonful of thread
the grape-sized egg of the lamb

a little water was the color of my mind
I was using a light to program my soul

the cactus is the mirror
could be a cloud



solid wharfing

in the world of the clay

               a wall of pie

a salad of green glass
the bright wig of the sun

why is the light so sudden?
a careful walk to the dumpster

the chain of the coughing
the bright waffle of the caramel door

a bill walton of the popular iron
the periwinkle gambler snores



the squirrel sees that bumble

I was the sleeping island

in the pyramid of the saint
I became a name

when it came to living in the fish tank
saturn fared much better than the other planets

               in the weeds there is a monster

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His first full-length collection, entitled In Ghostly Onehead, is slated for a 2021 release by mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press. Visit http://www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.

 
 

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