water to say when an open file for your thoughts is that a real dream to make it a market face? a robot for the world see it glisten in the sunlight? gestures of the clown clean ship with a chip machine willow pane we have a shriveled grape ready to go celery king says to watch the show with a bowl of celery a new earth buggy with wings air elke fixture the clouds are eating the earth the head says to let the light in I am the earth’s greatest detective that tattered ghost is a serious mover earth is the outpost for the better machines mask head is a new enlightened being what happens when we rearrange the head we convince the earth to eat a salad all possible nouns in the lost creature bath the paper brain to be used a cold face in that shoe earth gets wet again with a new hammer parallel raisins earth is a triceratops ghost model to understand the miller hog wet-naps in the sink cool brute the trumpet player miracle claus the humming shrimp I wanted to do this for a penny as numb as a sport fork for the carbon it takes at the outpost of the inner world going for a walk inside of the red sun the pushing machine is ready to run that good looking gold was a bird on the perch canopy burger not showing the head a new earth pretzel I was a photocopy machine I was a belonging machine the sparkle is a tangible name of the world pie cooling now on the windowsill action sound is a news bulletin the garish head of the power I spent the nickel that the machine spit out at me pancake flap earthly to build a beige bridge too last semester was the child of the sun that cornmeal platform from the beginning the color of the currency was changed to red the cheap leather to make a couch earth had the key that old bread head there is a learning banquet for those who pass the test at the learning mountain yeah, a smart card all the way from the red zone the nocturnal nesting of the hands ready to scratch we don’t have the change in the jar to hold us over after that incident with the bad trees coming in and demanding all of our money x on the x ort captain cookie’s cape the crunch is the night of the bat we hear the hem of the egg this is the shape of the flea the bright wound of the flowers on this truck is the doctor the flea of the centered laugh the salad of the front fork the serious world of the clamor the wall of the pirate yuck on the planet of keys and butter the last of the dolphins
J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poetry has appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His work has recently appeared in E·ratio, Maintenant, Otoliths, BlazeVOX, and X-Peri. Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado.