Searching for Love and Fire

searching for love and fire in the fragrant circus of a kiss


surveying prehistoric crabgrass in the Lethbridge parking lot


Badlands tricereatops grunt and rejoice in earthy ochre chthonia


battles of bone and beak beneath a slab of cerulean sky


"Searching for love and fire !" shouts the badger-faced snake grabber


he's the skinny one with the lazy eye ogling the ambrosial bosom of a jezebel


searching for love and fire with a blue-tipped safety match blaze


wearing stereo racoon goggles scrawny desperado delerious rabid and cool


genuflecting before the peephole offer oblations to babylon gods


to cure the miracle of baldness in basement suites adorned with owls


occult bonfire in plywood funhouse an inferno of textbooks shrivel


like the awkward advances of the one-armed man who haunts the bingo halls of Flin Flon


In a superlative conspiracy mosquitos invade the beards of intrepid vegan spelunkers


and bent banjo notes coalesce in campfire air


searching like a grandiloquent ogre for the exquisite panacea


by the abandoned swingset  with the licorice bush on fire


likea ridiculous and popular friend who shines like cadmium yellow light


her outlaw agenda creates a pattern of intoxicants that twinkle on this page


because you're in love with a nun with a face like Charles Bronson

woodpecker...

woodpecker of my dreams
tenderly bangs his beak
into my brain as I enter
a bubble of orange pink and gold...

my favourite neighbour is Buster!

Seance of Ecstacy

In the calamine lotion graveyard the tender zombie flesh
is ressurected by the etheric twang of broken banjo music
Father Potatoe presides over this seance for the squeamish
they are clad in fannypacks and sandals, their water bottles
bubble with some fine august moonshine witchhazel brew
volcanoe..pantsuit..aardvaark...souflee...words comingle
nonsense brainfreeze..oh bubble and squeak she says-

Mrs. Butterworth's sausage fingers flex in the European moonlite
as she begins to talk in tongues, her arms and legs akimbo
gothic makeup drooling like a crying drunken clown...

Holiday Weekend

Clad in acid-washed jean-shorts
with my patriotic fanny-pack
sippin' on a Hi-Test and
munching on some KFC
I assemble a Lego wolfman

as I listen to Debussy...Not!

FOR ARTHUR RIMBAUD

 FOR ARTHUR RIMBAUD

Sad purple photograph face

Downloaded into eternity

Rimbaud’s soft voice

Sings thru radio static

You are now one with the Sun

And the atrocious Moon

Will no longer haunt

Your drunken boat of roses

For Arthur Rimbaud