ayaladn

‘tho a guitarist

can knot a cat’s-got-a-tongu’d

aglet on crew sock’d

 

hiking boots and chew

all it wants, to pick a tune,

better yet declaw

 

a piton mountain

& look out a cool crevasse,

the crooks echoic

“There was a science

of superimposition

asymmetical

 

‘As the Tyrian

purple…therein the jaguar’s

chromo-luminance…’ ”

 

no-1 more idle

as Bibi beads a bonnet

in a car lot spot

‘He is in cahoots…’

or it is Cahokia,

OK, it’s caboose

 

Could he be a hoax,

oryx in a labyrinth,

oxen quit a yoke

 

He’s just a hookah’s

hokum to a Cheshire Cat,

his skill Kabuki

“Nigh there a burrow…’

or OK a bureau so,

‘as a pillow eyes…’

 

O yes, that’s crewel,

Dunn in dun around a tun,

maybe…a dyad:

 

as Bibi re-reels

to Otto, who re-edits,

crew to add a scence

“When does the f-stop…’

Bibi, fitt’d  for close-ups,

Otto by the cheese

 

reads two cameos,

‘No-1 really noes…’ Ms Dubb,

figure in a blue

 

ribbon, a mint choke,

and a red sunset collar,

‘She shall kiss the frog’