Aaron BELZ
BAROMETER
My name is fifty whales. I came from up the spoon.
Our little bungalow there provided plenty shelter.
I originally came from Provincetown.
What I remember about Provincetown was cupie doll.
It stuck up like spokes. Riblet.
My name is Kate Warner. I want you to run a background check.
He is denying that he is Kate Warner. Jack listen:
Her family's not cooperating.
I live in mailbox with Teddy. He freelances for the CIA.
After lectures, my neck always hurts. Now please:
Get back to me as soon as you've got anything.
What I like best is Coupled Townships Incorporated.
What I appreciate about Conner was her style.
She fave. Notch about Klinker.
Let our chimpanzee guidebook roll along barometer.
It can't hurt to spend what all we have left.
Get ready for a new breed of competition.
THE LAW OF INCOMPLETE AVERAGES
Is a corollary to the Principle of Disconnected Parts.
Both have the media people reeling,
Especially considering the tornadoes that ate up
Vast tracts of land in North Carolina this spring.
The Conundrum of the Missing Modifier
Continues to leave experts guessing,
As does the photograph of the Squealing Masseuse.
No one questions science, nobody dares.
Mistakes are as prevalent as the thousands of Asian
Women who bare themselves for digital cameras
Each fall in the shadow of hundred-story structures
Near waterways full of nets, fish, and junks.
The Laws of Ordinals and Indiscreet Numerals
Perplex even the most patient pundit;
I myself sit in an anxious mist
As pictures download to my laptop by the dozen.
If I weren't on the Diet of Grape Jelly,
And you were able to pry yourself free
From the narcissism that encages you,
Perhaps we could agree on a temporary solution, at least.
For the moment, let motorboats float,
Let limo fleets disappear into the streets.
Let the ancient hexes be ancient, Maurice,
Like electronic impulses: unsolvable, undissolvable.
SHY
No, you don't get the flowers.
You eat the only pouch
And you don't get the flowers.
Me I've waited all this time,
And what's left is Honda.
Do not mistake it for ease:
Or even for usefulness:
No one wants to be here
Where everything's in rows.
Six Aeroflot tie pins,
You know, glued together.
THE VELVET SPIKES
One machine had a broken language button.
As if to mute the first two clanks,
none of the cars were visible at the university,
and I could still taste the cereal
beneath obligatory horse jelly.
Old wolverines and marines make great referees.
Along about the first open section, two of our fastest mates
made a break for the middle and then at the same time
sped up and split apart laterally.
Time for a quick chestnut, time for a nap.
A video reel pulls noisily through its rotors,
though we finished the feature five minutes ago.
A thudding of bolts: you with your free silencer,
me with my photos of Italy, weeping.