because it makes us smile a lot

mad libs poetry
by aron taylor and amber courteau / december 1, 2007

i am furry
it is the kindest branch that i keep cranky in my heart
no shivs
no pooling
yes eggs
yes bursting
i am a jesus crackly punching my way through wax
you are a careful butterscotch
we are real
we are band-aids
we are gobblets
we are sea shells
coarse

you're prettier this way

on my tongue
a hint of lavender.

this morning the sky
is salt water taffy,
and i dress in an anorak
of wool and lace.

craving a monarchy of warmth,
like lady bugs hurling
poky wings
against glass,
i smiled sideways at a cardinal
swollen and hidden
in a pine sapping.

here i landed
in a river
of blinding yellow
to escape
those ravenous gulls.

you're not a robot yet

hushed feelers are rusting, where a diamond ring cuts off the second finger in.

lips without a sheen are not weeping.

she’d like to nudge the yellow tape, to ruminate all the skinny girls.

i warm away these blistering beep beep chills to unearth a great panacea.

my mother formerly intrepid, dodging vultures.

my mother living the dream.

my spicy fingers

you broke your face?

i owe you a dollar.

do you feel the rib stitch?

it's killing me,
but i'm praying.

do you notice?

the color of a beet.

is it a marathon?

it's unavoidable,
a cup of smut.

you'll answer?

i was hoping you'd say,
i can't drink this shit.

the last best crossbreed

if the road is hash,
you are the mighty leaf
stealing words like
the annual stump jump.

you are one grand scheme,
a pirahna chomping
at my shipyard.

and the dead sea
can't compare
or hold a flame
to bloody molars.

flattening
with a crossbreed
of wanton shakes.