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Sail did the buffalo from tangled stars
All the way to West Knuckle
Past pop-top heads
Through gasoline veins
Around desert snows and gunpowder makeups

They arrived on Easter
But the poundcake masses
Do not approve distilled maltase


"Unhand the tablespoon bovine!"
Cried Teapot as Sun set over burning Wednesday

"They've wronged you zero and twisted you 3,
Let the opposition have their starship!"

"Nay!" wailed the old winking ghost

"Then before the dissipation of West Knuckle commences, ponder this conjecture:"



Only you can open the door,

But can the open, door you?





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Comments

The following comments are for "A Roaming Shelter"
by PeriwinkleMoses

Joy-Buzzer Doorknob
Well, here's another mind-fucker you've written here.

I see the buffalo, a practically extinct life-force, tangled up in the stars & bars of the American flag, as if the red & white stripes were bars of a fence, no more home where the buffalo roam. Fence'em in & shoot'em - it's good for business. We're here to make money, not friends.
That would be the "pop-top heads" speaking, who live in West Knuckle & whose wallets are thin. As are their brains. Perhaps in West Knuckle, the predominant voting block would just as soon shoot any remaining buffalo because they're probably diseased & kind of old-fashioned & they'd just as soon eat pound-cake anyway. Bang bang, you're dead, like a nuisance.

Then I get a little confused about the "starship." But then I think I might have it figured out - it's like "a higher form of life" is telling the buffalo that it can eat no more grasses because now it belongs to the powers that be of West Knuckle who promptly take away the spoons of the buffalo and any other nearby winking ghosts & promptly bends them into pretzel shapes.

That's what I get from the first half of the poem, even though I'm changing my mind this very second.

I also like the second half of the poem but I have non-figured it out like the first half.

All these things, even if they don't, add up to why I like this poem. Very much.

( Posted by: gomarsoap [Member] On: August 24, 2006 )

bovine poundcake masses
Ich mag dieses Gedicht.
(dada gut)
dat key in your pocket belong's to dog yo!

( Posted by: lampshadejesus [Member] On: August 25, 2006 )





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