Floosing Through the Shnew

I ate the butter –
you ate the bread –
tried to be integuments

that wedded heart and head –
connect-icons of silsdabury
floosing through the shnew –

among the rout of inexplicabilities
that did and do not do the least
amount of justice to

the slammatory dords of you.
Impatient with my lexicon!
Does not have one syllable

I want. Vex the dawn,
make it trill a bill of goods –
I’ve got the couldn’t’s –

it’s got the would’s.
Fal-da-roll-da-rill-da-ray –
every atom in the both of us

gets in each other’s way –
and bunny-billy-doody-day?
None of it’s got squat to say.


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