poem on thanksgiving day, by the duck who blogs

cold morn, found frosty leather
gloves sitting
out on the bucket feed those fowl!
and thelma whits and
shares her glory in making it
through
her first thanksgiving
as not dinner

she needs cuddles or she moans
luis doesn't care about
nuthin
but chopped corn and

the white
duck is in
the house recouping from
slipping on the ice

caldonia, what makes your big head so hot! MOP
snap snap bobby darin fingers

goodbye cruel world i am
off to join the circus

sneaks in the door when the hound
of the west
goes out trolling for eggs I smelled one drop, she says
and doesn't care if she lets
the chicken named for the love of lous jordon in

peck and paw
the morning revolving
door
and ling sits by the heater
wondering how to get up for more water

ho hum not worth it, ling sits and sigbs
such a day
grateful to be fowl

did you see the daily bresson ?
random surrealizm generator sits right below it
blog blog blog I tells ya!
where is a parrot
when ya need one. aye mayteeee

home is hearth
hannah


11.25.04

soon to be published in "Psychic Rotunda" volume 2 barlowpress toronto