hell must break before i lay this plump warm mouse on your own face

I have much to do today, but I've forgotten the password for my brain.

Login incorrect.
only the smell of the lost people like dante, down
in the midst so fair,
while the spider out.
barefoot, wearing just shorts.
in the snow-house, the walls would soften--
worse, smoke trouble the house's master.

she rolled for nigh an hundred feet; she bounded like a proper gypsy.
i have empathies for animals and people.

i wear the black cat among roses,
i will confine myself to linking
fancy unto fancy, thinking what this love is
mad as the cold
gentle cycle
with flashes filched from noon;
what benefit even if the wooer is to the front yard
the devil's walking parody
of the ancient yule-tide carol
fa-la-la-la.

No, I don't know what the heck HAL is going on about. But I'm pretty sure I don't want to know what the lost people smell like as they go 'round in their shorts (made out of black cats' hides?) singing the devil's parody of "Deck the Halls." There's nothing mad about the cold gentle cycle if it's enough to get those shorts clean. I don't care how many flashes you must filch from noon--just get that laundry done before you come back to my front yard, y'hear?

as quick as thought i breathed the perfume in your brain...

Too oogie for deep thought tonight. Am still behind on MegaPoMo posts (oh, the angst!), though, so here's the second one for the day. Two poems featuring Braaaaaaiiiiins. Where there are brains, there might be zombies--so one of the poems features Wal-Mart too!

While wal-mart may be the same
i'd laugh at the word of your beauty
and the consequent merging of the body.
it quacks.
it is interesting
characteristic of visceral pain is his,
while mcflimsey in vain desire,
at noon and waken to find a lover, maybe.
around the glistening brain and blunt the examiners,
and i'm hoping with my lips were dumb, in my madness if i shot him, at madam lou's,
because if i thought to send you the next galaxy
things up just right.

~~~~~

An army travels on its bosom
well, you came and you finally found all your heart in his brain.
colors balance our fears, and existence
begins to curl toward your chest his gesture of drawing
purposes, is nothing more than i have wandered to and fro:
looking for you with her feet she from the arms of my life
has to teach a school
about like a donkey's bray,
they feel ill.

No, really, I don't have anything useful to say here. Except that, in context, the words "it quacks" really cracked me up.

Oh, on a completely unrelated note: Many people get upset when their favorite songs end up being used in TV commercials. But a Vaseline commercial featuring one of Sheila Chandra's "Speaking in Tongues" pieces? That's simply too odd to be offensive.