flat broke in a curved world
me and my brood of viaducts
we got the gas money of Glenn Miller
but no moon of gasoline

I’m a superchthonic chucklehead
singing the zither at noon
ok so I’m moon normal with mnemonic nostalgia
acrostic anemones stamped upon my brow
but I’ve played hopscotch with gravity
quantum mouth stuck in a toaster
that wasn’t there

I’ve had the zipper of the month at a restaurant
taught creative writhing to elms
a padlocked forest fills my chronic pockets
the cryonic boom of a tissue-paper Mazda soils my shoes
sure you can call me the Bert of a nation
but it’s not true
I invented the owl