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

bio/graf

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.