the ballpoint earth
 
here comes the bat with a message
look for earth to be the standard by the year 3000
 
the leaky wooden good hat
if that’s what you mean by machine plums
 
we saw the whales fly into the sun
science is doing new things with rice
 
that last yes is the cherry of the goon loop
what makes the world the shadow of an egg?
 
the battle of the light bulbs
an accidental episode

 
the face of the comma
 
carp was a leather fresh name
I was the rock of the foam
 
dart is the common expression
a chain of the ezekiel fresh lemon
 
three favorite yarns to be the clemens of the holograph
the continued friend of the bass is the mountain of the wolf
 
the spinning hoof of the caramel chain
cannon puncture one of the numbs
 
to zap one more of the camera parrots
we need that mirror to scorp a new headline
 
to sea leaf a french feather
spock was a diet coke
 
the low earth for the pledger
the burped earth
 
grease could lock a duffle
or trout of that seven is the cloud of the henry

 
slot tick that natural name
 
the worm hat is the barrier of cyclops the martian
baseball is the complete ward of the saturn
 
another morse had that serpent
that charcoal instinct and that mirror of the paste
 
a world of the language is the creeping hand
the lightning of the laugh
 
the complete worm is the slice of the country
that language of the bat is the spinning silver and glue
 
your land is the crayon of the sheep
the seventh head and the little earth is the power of the salt
 
the chair of the windmill
all right dolphin

 
a rainbow of coinage
 
work is the dollar of the trewes
roo, or that fork is a bus of the merit
 
would it be the dungeon dove
to glove a coup of the stereo raisins?
 
the law of the pirate shape
the dollar buff is the coin grief of madrid
 
the wolf can lower the thermostat
the good glass of the world and that smash of the madison square
 
rice yes a lock of power was the craft of paper in the sink
the help of the coloring book
 
the world of peanut butter
in that old bacon magazine

 
bio/graf
 
J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). Visit www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado.