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a mother hazmat. the moment we share as the ambulances approach
            a mother hazmat. the moment
                we share as the ambulances approach.

well meant ill spent
mudstain-martha
        swing off the
    winding-sheet
            all night sleep
                on my hands
        on my mind

    musclette mufflette -
        show donk trunk out

            I think I know
            but I don't know why
    how it is and I cut the fool
when things don't go my way
        entirely too
practical a matter

ecriture erudite crudite

nasty tasting
piece of string
string of being
in my mouth.

This poem appears in the 2006 Anthology
View all poems by Buck Downs