zafusy

Ne’r Ma Russia

nor la bomba

we feared,

but the wood ain’ts,
fire ain’ts
gettin together
ain’t earth either

you know.

A.E. Reiff

Edmund Spenser died in fire
then doubled down to England,
bloke.

Bill Blake climbed the angel ladder,
died and saw the mundane
Pope.

But Butler Yeats’ discarnate matter,
supernal sapphira, seely Mathers,
died when Jim Joyce saw the elephant.
Nope.

A.E. Reiff

His clothes
hang
on every chair,

he is a liar
with short hair.

He rolls
the globe
off its stand

next to
a velcro shoe.

A.E. Reiff

Moss
red
shadows,
leaves,
dust,
slate,

fat
brim
cedars,
hook
hawk
beaks,

white coat instant hung rock feet.

A.E. Reiff

Whether I’m in Cambridge or Iceland or dead, the
cow will be there.”
E. K. Forester, The Longest Journey

De cow, goat, hors, pig and snake
Together a part went
yes they did

approaching summer

drought struck

oh yes

Rees tuition rain chychology

oh they discussed it

un un un huh

Vinnie Van never saw
square tabloids like fryers

like fryers

itter ultitude ools

ad ernal art

A.E. Reiff

“Have a start,
give a squirt,”
hose and sprinkler blurt.

“Pick, shovel,
take that wagon
and dig it,
drive the hole.”
Try to come up with the mole.

We dug a bucketful.
Rototilled, hillocks
were hurtin’to play,
but the mole played through.

“Dig deep, Pap.
Tomorrow, no, you back?
That one mole makes two
will multiply our woe.”

Endangered by the hole bairn
foursomes drove
the official tee,
but in the cup a waste,
the mole made liver paste.

Now we got the mole course safe
ask first, what you shoot?

Oh well.
Eighteen aces.
Mole holes out.

A.E. Reiff