yore not listening

cameras sop insistent orbs
gathering bones inside me
hopscotch one maker to the next
I could have used a valentine
but that's beside the point
the point is dogs have vests inside their trousers
the door is open and the spleens have come in
it's not good to be unaware
your not listening
the trout have five children each morning
the eaves give out each night
snowboards sail in kitchen kettles
walking space boards in spackling time
your not listening
it's not good to be unaware
the tonics are out hooting again
give them a spare tire and they'll keep quiet
a blistered bum keeps the towels wise
preaching in canned worms till the trout go sprouting
birds undersea split peas to find ham worthy
your not listening
how many times must I tell you
listen to the practicality of my words
the bills, holidays, present finding,
extra extra do all about it
pine my pores with extra lunch boxes
feeling lucky in pressboard stilts
the long jump bowed out for a gin and chronic
rabbits feed their crows to tame the swallows
ostrich your imagination. give them toes.
your tables are empty, your parties are slow
you must do and give, do and give
you
are
not
doing
enough
ask the shadows
they do more than all of us combined
the eaters and the pinwheels sigh
they too want to be wise

denis streeter 11/27/17

frivelled abone

all the ducks were brawn
blinking moon in cans forlorn
the tacos gone
corn and guacamole
tribunal hot potatoes
lunch too soon
blistering chaos thereafter
horses seam in doctor unicorns
trusselling gunnysacks unpleasant dreams
suitcase fuels doctored empty
who controls, baker or taker
sordid show, the crap tables rise
strangers blow in dangerous faces
all in frivelled places
[oh frivelled is a word. no it isn't]
cotton bald, tulipped and grown
weeds in soury willows
twisted corners trace hides of narrow tides
raiding those improperly tied
altering blows and peeling spaniels
dressed in paper towels
drowned in spirit mask
know knot crown entrails
hug but don't embrace
drums of kicked up snow
pastures gnome and grown
gather undersea abodes
those abone enrapture flown
orange spreading rafters
postulating pastures labored toes
fights and screams each letter blown
hounds in snuffled shadows
all that winter spent
bottom down to up
some eraser fed
letters cross in words behind
puzzled left alone
nonsense in a different tune
frivelled brawn abone

denis streeter 11/19/17

missing hats

sadless shapes fixed set down
washing with a britches pun
louding for a quick wrong
tables cry the sun's at bay
the onions ate at tea rise
shadowing tongs embittered trees
eating a table sat behind me
the writing was wrong but the books taste right
left with a bit of sausage and cream
none of the crackers and sauce
they get soda bad
isotopes bringing them down
dancing with a plate of peas
saucer sausage an ounce of cheese
another tequila sunrise
understanding got misplaced
under the alcove i guess
they were hungry and the grass wouldn't do
neither would the glass, and they were at fault
don't know why, just their luck
only fault lines, the volcano grew
lava malcontent
books grew like ashes, ent no good
others grew from holes, half potted, half potty
it's how the derelicts grow, have it with fries
they grow from shelters
open the door, they have cigars, they'll buy you a round
live in a topiary with a dish of soap
the soup was burning so they put it out
rabbit a dish of sauerkraut
one dish warm the other high
mystified
nose bent, belt off, shirt cold
ketchup with an odd of eyes
don't know what's next of wise
define nonsense! they demand
shadows skulk in early morn
they don't know the eyes aren't
shades don't dream, they draw
no one is what they say they was

denis streeter   10/31/17

predictionary

guidance chose gold, as flower meets fancy
stakes sold other direction
meeting tells fiction
tales of wonder all for diction
nary a clue and a wisecrack mind
corners canary
calling my name, parroting words
sliding trombone
slicing the net membrane gone
on acid provide
sick to the poor
potatoes subside
nothing to eat
cabbage or tricks lie wasted
crimes riffle rhymes
all the beds talk in riddles
spittoons walk empty, no justice inside
a full moon spittles
spinning tales illiterate
directionless horizon
no continuity
no nothing is something
hiss rearrange
orange are apples
sun dries align
something goes down
flour or egg
no matter
words type themselves
without any mutter
mood pieces strain
some other design
mothers the batter
marks the decline
utter wet noodles
trouncing out usual
depression mount
enter the pan
looking for blather
litter undone
words repeating
sleeping in rafters
searching and dratting hereafter

denis streeter   10/29/17

why the ostrich

washing the badminton net
knots floor over the wise
hinting vegetables falling
toothpicks not far behind
the lab rats were running
sure as trout fries
lice in the pudding
pick pocket deep
all the junkies store their johns
right quick
not enough time
laces undone
slow slow quick quick slow slow
dancing not meant
cooking show over
wising green beans
over and over
nothing to do
washing vegetables just to be cool
the labyrinth hot, doors no
pudding dance in the middle
washing their spool
catwalk done in
dog doors swung open
casper unfriendly
stools stood drinking wine
get the vegetable cup
v8 running
car or drink. what do you care.
isosceles between covers
mints flow back
cartridge in middle
blacken or lighten
lignin returns without a word
does not pass go
turning unravels, root looks good
grass fries for no one.
trespassing doors
no longer a reason

denis streeter   10/23/17

wiped

I don't know where travelers go
spreading spaces ill defined
alliance of trolls
patrolling yards shear dusty faces
treasure seeps through holes unkind
in your den Daniel dies
liars pick his bones
tamers shrew the pieces, horns bent
chaos chews the elements
wrong becomes your friend
tempest blows the rhyme
temples flower resist and crave
no room for dungeon flows
you don't know your there. 
don't want to
beat, burnt, wiped
don't look for cognizance
the gears are ill defined
songs know your name and cave
grinding hope in plague writ mind
gear shot in blind
tame a tsar communal
fields spread with funerals
manna of death
cover your nose
don't eat the vegetables
cry before noon.  your temple don't know
evening flows with dark birds rising
catch their talents
ride the wind


denis streeter   10/18/17

writing wrongs

tried between two faces
tantamount within
fried onion bide
ocean lines wide
only to slide through ocean's bliss
everyone in fleese
once a century wash back knees
a temple in its mist
southward ghetto tries as oceans moor
wakes up cotton balls
snorage lids puff untoward tongs
others write wrongs
lancing wombles helps the bleed
whilst lit horizons lace
cannibals in thimbles
water zoos for something to do
it wasn't of, just lasso
there isn't much to do
gathering waters move on
time for pudding. the gas to lit
stew tomatoes in lace lit lips
contraband. there wasn't much host
just creamcicles in lime lit bottles
lederhosen did not exist
stewards in leather bottoms pumpkin away
stretched but not unkind though the hips were divine
not enough for snoring to commence
any line of pots would do
the lids popped and the lines engraved
didn't matter as it opened the mind
gravel snuffed in orange blossoms
a snare of sleep
too much wine in the coffee
distaste for staph infection
nothing for the cleaner
scrubbing inward, screaming out
wash your vegetables, the cleaners off, the lassoes undone
reading untoward, a cowsnip in catsup begun
caustic as catnip fribbled unwise
the signs set up in cannibal
nothing to do but try
it's how all weapons know
and how becomes why


denis streeter   10/8/17