I wish I had
another job, thought
Judge John Manley Taylor, and sat
down at his kitchen table.
Sanderling delves, hoping
to appeal, fluff its white breast
and survive the sand-spy's camera.
Whereas the three pelicans are action.
On the wing, each missile
spears forward : Hah, Atlantic!
Hah, major ocean with its slate sky!
We can break through sound
on point, by choice, and land.
Picky-eater child from a landlocked state
grows slightly to hanker for fish.
Raw. Glitter-eye, sharptooth,
the new creature bites sashimi,
approves the ginger and green radish paste.
What is it, now? The plains bred bread,
not this tomcat-clawed howl going gollum
in its throat. Go figure
If I were a hobbit
in this state I'd lie low, drive a truck.