an on-line poetry magazine
for the 21st century

WINTER 2021-22

 

Brett Underwood

I WISH HE COULD FLY

Bob’s down for affliction.

Maybe have a wank

with a wallabee

or not.

It’s a thought.

Able to help with mental

yoga and flossing

and the affectations

of lots and lots.

We have rats, unfortunately.

Man, I wish he could fly.

Why let cost be a concern?

Real good at being a gofer

and smashing

your television minds

and granny’s twat

is made of silly putty.

She knows it’s funny.

Man, I wish he could fly.

After a nap in the sand

it becomes apparent

they’re not so happy.

They can hardly count

that they’re leaving the band

to move on to a new relation

with something like Syd

in the outback.

But, not gonna ride the gravy train

and know that someday

they’re gonna say that they miss

the buffet at the anarchist cafe

and the urgency in the photographer’s

eye on the morning

after a radio show broke

the little toes of a mind.

Man, I wish he could fly.

Bill punched fries today and the biceps

are happywhappy, Pappy.

Almost suspicious

to better check under the sea

turning into a cartoon

version of themselves.

Why let cost be a concern?

Thinking before speaking

more like saying

“I don’t know.”

She escaped outside so she

can smell where she’s supposed

to be, thanks to the college

wrestling fans and lack of impetus

from humanity on a slab minus

the phone holder.

Befriending a fascist

only to put it in a blender

and make magic means

Belch & Felchslap reality, Folks!

Abort memory.

Why let cost be a concern?

Mommy might prefer Jazz

if you took the time to make a new world.

Do as I say, not as I do.

A sturdy little steamer

right now would save this show,

Duder.

When older, he did it silently,

said sharks Might Prefer Jazz

to Other Types of Music

or others well-suited for any adventure

in the night side-by-side who raids

with some rookie in spring training

for the growth of the bacteria

who can’t lay down a bunt

or fathom the hit-and-run

that causes botulism

immediately publicizes minivans

aren’t usually considered hipwack

whack but deemed

the highest in hierarchy rude

slang literally to defecate

while still wearing one’s clothing.

Why let cost be a concern?

Sally hopes the bosses need you

to pull over the DEATHSTAR

right now or else she’s going

to sell pants with us

for the first time in a pyramid

scheme on such a night.

Man, I wish he could fly.

That’s something of a stone

if for one fast one

and on a slippery slope

of who knows what’s right to drop off

so your rascal

doesn’t take a shot.

Why let cost be a concern?

(what is that?…tofu?)

Keep it coming!

I dun toldya wunce!!!

and then she’d cup

your balls,

say, “Love yourself.”

Well, so far, The Witcher is scoring fairly high

on the all-around “bonkers” scale

and it is only the third inning.

I DON’T NEED THE EXIT VELOCITY!!!

But, not gonna ride the gravy train

and he knows that some day

they’re gonna say that he’ll miss the buffet

at the anarchist cafe

and the urgency in the photographer’s eye

on the morning after a radio show.

Broke the little toes of twelve minds

per hour when he said on air,

“That’s right, come to St. Louis.

We will kill you!” with a smirk

unseen on the radio.

“Put on shoes and stumble towards

the stillborn mess of sad hens,”

she said. She giggled amongst her curtain.

Why let cost be a concern?

Man, I wish he could fly.

Gessa I gottatellyagain!!!!!

It’s sort of an art deco BARF

in exquisite form.

Why let cost be a concern?

See/do the kids virus genotype

infection proven to fuel six indicators

of brain performance:

focus, accuracy, memory, learning,

concentration, and reasoning; goes well

with your morning and their imagination.

Bring Oprah to be more effective?

She escaped outside so she can smell

where she’s supposed to be.

Park it on a slab minus the phone holder.

Hey, what’s your batting average?

Did you find Waldo?

qUEthion is the new verb:

lisp, “When does a door have a knob

orduzza knobonedadore?”

After a nap in the sand

it becomes apparent

we’re so happy

we can hardly count

that I’m leaving the band

to move on to a new relation

with something like Syd

in the outback.

Maybe have a wank with a wallabee

or not, but that is what and thanks.

Is it like a kangaroo mixed

with a simile?

And now to sports,

to the college wrestling fans

and lack of impetus from humanity,

we’ve got what it takes to put on my shoes

and walk towards the stillborn

mess of sad hens…

and I’ll dump Chilula all over them

dump them in a cauldron

of the efforts of the South American

slave trade cup-by-cup. You know: breakfast.

But, not gonna ride the gravy train

and you know that some day

you’re gonna say that you miss the buffet

at the anarchist cafe

and the urgency in the photographer’s eye

on the morning after his radio show

broke the little toes of your mind.

Man, I wish he could fly.

 

Brett Lars Underwood is a St. Louis bartender and promoter of happenings and mishaps. He is the author of MUSH (Spartan Press, 2018) and MUSHARONA (Kung Fu Treachery Press, 2020).