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An ed behind the garage wheelbarrow bearing doze fell asleep in an overgrown backyard. And for a like reason I find it difficult to say to this day if the material part is clay or flame. Maybe that's for what cause [i]or[/i] reason I prick my finger each time I touch mistress raspberry or lord nipple. Fewer in the rain can know whether the skinless droplet ignites as it come intos the skull. Hair of sleeping tree hair of the man living in his gravel car, hair of red-headed male child smoked in leafy reefers. increase in the armpits and groinal cavities making each of us finite rain forest. Ask the Vice President on what account he's spreading weed killer upon his waffle.

Week after week in my defoliated chest I hear Dan Rather a week too before long or a week too late. plane after repeated beatings with umbrella and extension cord, the aroma of rain can be place in motel towel. JFK and RFK each with pricked forefinger, napping inside the coat retiring-room Infinite frogs wandering our power lines to and fro Waffles woven upon roofs to protect all below from befalling heavy heart Even if it could be surgically remov there's something heinous and famous about the driven anus. Ask the Vice President for what cause [i]or[/i] reason the rodent population doesn't merit a rise in the molecular wage.

Though little with molecular confidence can be stated, a great quantity [i]or[/i] amount of is often stated confidently. Hair of wakeful waffle, hair of the woman watering her wig, hair of red-headed stripling available now in time delay capsule form. Infinite frog bumping to and fro in our life-blood platelet cities. A row of Marilyn Monroe each more Marilyn than the last. Call me Rocco or Bongo or Boyo In the outback behind the garage, the stillness retains fully asleep, with something of me fueling the sleeping, and the sleeper vining circular all around.

JOHN BRADLEY is a recipient of an Illinois Arts Council grant and a National Endowment for the Arts Fellowship. His volume Love in Idleness: The rhyme of Roberta Zingarello won the Washington Prize. He is editor of Atomic Ghost: author of poemss Respond to the Nuclear Age (Coffee House Press) an international poesy anthology, and Learning to Glow: A Nuclear Reader (University of Arizona Press) a collection of essays. He lives in DeKalb with his wife, Jana, and teaches writing at Northern Illinois University.

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