Bald Spend Us

Oh, give it up. You’ve go no arm, my amiable anchovy.
And you dancer, just dance,
send less paladins, less May Day grey,
less squeals, less Saladins.

My sire’s “Bell’s the Ruth,” part of a tired pair lacking gravity,
suspended panting, snores’ grimace, cancer lethal.
It layers, clacks quaint out in front of reverse, do save it,
less fate. Row reason’s sons, the dune views know you.

Hateless, painting, choke in lace net lures, brass grails:
Come disgorge noir’s lisp, oh, it trains azure cues,
errant oats, repossesses its legend’s demoiselles.
See here tents long meant for dancing hide his armour.

Hurrah! Less gay dancers, twin halves plus the pants.
(Once started the Cabriolet’s less a treat.) Oh song, sea longs sea legs!
Hop! Grown one more neck, catch more sincerest battles of stardance
by the Belize booth, enraged, rankling the seas violins.

Odors, talons, your Mason’s on the news, bullets on the dial.
Press quiet toes, the sound for quit, tell a chemist’s ape all the rest,
then spit and spew the giant void, the itsy scandal sands, sureless cranes,
lane age applied, one blank chapter of a blank chapeau removed by buried hands,

liquor bow fate, panache, access, totem filets –
and more. Sewn in the thrown-in chair, tremble with the allure
of May grey mention. One dire turn – buoyant, danceless, somber melees,
desperate raids, hunters of charmed days in a carton of retention.

Hurrah! Ladies there’s a fly in the grand ball that squalor lets and begets!
Leg, I bet no arms you get. Come one ogre, day four,
less loops, minus respondents and desert forest violets:
It’s all horizon so let’s sail it down from rouge to mauve.

Hole, hold a second that’s been creased, as my captain has been ceased,
keyed defiantly. So your nose is dollars, gross digits, cases
unshackled. Out Damn pale vertebrae! You’ve seen it
passed on mouse-tier cityless trespasses.

Oh! Veil lake, oh, my lewd lady make a break
bandit dancing the seal rogue, one grand squeal faux
emperor parlay and come on. Chew on all the seats like a cabbie
who senses the encore, the raid, the elastic cordon.

Seize petit digits’ season. Femur’s key cracks,
have it descry parallels, ades re-canned, re-minted, resent.
Come one ballad, renter the trance, label these oddments,
make them all chance, labor your twin rebound, prance.

Oh gibbon with no arm, I’m the man who shot you amiably.
And you Dancer, dance, send less paladins,
less May Day grey, due double the squeals
left for testy Saladins.


a homophonic translation of Rimbaud’s “Dance of the Hanged Men,” shaken and stirred here and there

Seen, Sat I On

Peerless swears, blues ditty, gyrate dance lesson tears,
pick out a pair least blessed, fouler there. Be men, new
rivers, gun-sent. Terror laugh ray, cheer a misspied
jail, a seer’s eye leaving, banging matter anew.

Genie pearl, airy pass, genie pen’s airy reign:
Ma’s lamb, our infinite meme, entered a dance lame.
It gyrates low. Imbibe. In loin. Come, un-bohemian
pear lane tour heroes. Come have a cone for me.


Homophonic translation of Arthur Rimbaud’s “Sensation”