At the Musarium [20201 – 20300]

[20201 – 20300]
“Gosh!” said the quixotic unashamed red-
wheedled disciplinarian effusively
to the inherently dialectical
alchemist as he handed Anastasia
her ovaries. “Flip the pancake or boycott
the boathouse. Your all-seeing provider
is beached.” “Definitively not,
you evilly sibilant scullion. Don’t
gobble what you can’t skewer without
a fulcrum,” & so they lilt & squirm
compiling piquet theses from freezer
to skillet with viscous oilcloth aftermath.
Viva the huntress! Viva Thessalian Rennes!

Composed: 4-29-09
Published: Maintenant. (Spring 2011): 58. Print.
Infinity’s Kitchen. 6. (2011). Web.


At the Musarium [17901 – 18000b]

[17901 – 18000b]

What the funk? How ski lifelike as a
snowball down a tyrannous gamut of
academical muck whose mercurial
components auger no abler trans-
migration than mere citation? How
circumvent the bogus electorate
without phonetic irruption of minuet
to erase those puns on gregarious
gunshot that mediate travesty at
the very forefront of an overloaded
& profitless Capitalism? Come, then,
& nestle my penis, Carinthia.
Reinstate your insolvent loafer to
the nitrogenous worthiness of your
unblemished pandemonium.

Composed: 2-21-15

At the Musarium [18001 – 18100]

[18001 – 18100]

“Nevermore,” adverted as cranks outwit
a UFO then recline near Loch Mir.
They carouse until gibberish accomplishes
the gracefulness of Urania. Allegation after
allegation, the brandy sop inquisitor
who exalts 666 & the senile whaler
converge, weeding alfalfa. Zechariah,
why fem? The quartet near Flagstaff
scald the auditorium, ranking ovation.
If yeomanry prune their demesne
grafting Brescia to Korea in a vise,
wainscot us? Awe-inspiring touchstone,
incautious paunch, wampum torpedoes,
alphabetical malediction, cadaverous
puss. Why balk? Whisk me an omelet
of this witless pertinacious tang.

Composed: 4-25-09
First published: Danse Macabre. Adam Henry Carriere, ed. (July 2009). Web.

At the Musarium [17501 – 17600b]

[17501 – 17600b]

With a fetish for pithy apostrophe
Chas was just a cop, lanky, foolhardy,
daft. “Any announcements, any discrepancies?”
“Uh-uh.” “Then I’ve a hunch—” “Baseless.”
“But the fusillade, the garish breastwork,
the putrefaction, the amputation—
& then a twenty-second kidnapping?
Dirk, an imitator?” “Grandiose,” says
Dirk, chary as an offhand trumpeter.
“Do we abdicate the fickleness of
the inextricable? Do we undervalue
quantitative automation? Do we
affix disrepute to introspection?”
“No, no. The metaphorical is no

Composed: 2-7-15