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Burlywords | Poem



By Paul Kesler

Burlywords spin from the mouths of the great on the tube on the page on the
billboards of the nation like frogs on the ledge of a lake not hopping in
because burlywords are wild not easy to tame they crouch and snarl as
spotless as leopards poured through a vacuum cleaner licking the wounds from
your head that has seen and heard so many burlywords you feel like a
saltshaker that can't quite shake it all out since burlywords keep coming so
many bullets whizzing past your brain so many missiles curving over the sky
so many bombs from the lips of whirlybirdbrains licking their chops these
lions and tigers and bears oh my but not on the yellow brick road like
nowhere you've seen like that gulf of Persia and those shantytowns so far
past the equator that burlywords can't reach them though the
whirlybirdbrains have no trouble getting to where they are to rob them
blinddeafanddumb since the crops they thought they owned have vanished in
the burlywordstorm that hovers like a swarm of helicopters crossing their
eyes like coins from their realm where no buffalo roams on the range and
this doesn't look like any home you know it's like no home at all but a
firetrap landscape droning like burlywords on the screen you can't shut off
keeps droning like some kind of gnat or some kind of nut let out of a bin so
long ago he's forgotten who his keeper was but it doesn't stop the
burlywords that swagger and strut to the tune of a preemptive bomb that
won't shake hands with the trees or the bodies that stroll down below and
who don't know the treason of burlywords till it's too late to skewer them
on the spit of a question and won't get roasted till it's too late to chew
or eschew these burlywords have a way of eschewing the bodies both here and
at home where the people with signs and the people with brains who have no
burlywords but fingers or two or a banner or two to wave in the wind but the
burlywords can't see them they keep on coming on the tube on the page on the
billboards you'd almost drive through if it didn't wreck your car or the job
that keeps you running and paying your taxes though the taxes aren't yours
any more than the house and the words aren't yours any more that the
whirlybirdbrains that blow in your ear while the world blows away....
to Paul's menu   /   to Moongate



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