The Mogilny Canuch

 

The melting thought

Of a complicated million

In a wet amazement

Of a rusty moon

Drops - -

Through the sunken brain

Like miserable leaves in fall.

But - -

The richer dimension

Of fuel flesh

And a blood treasure

Lost the pierced though

Turning it into an outer-space master criminal

But - -

The uncombed law

Of a backward agent

Says a thumbing agent.

In a dead depravity

With a foreign uniqueness

By an ice-cream snake

That has designer secrets

And unique whirls

May have a brittle hunch

And a fiberglass moan

That can be a scifled atom

Which firmly states that - -

This poem makes no sense at all!

 

By Andy Willis