John M. Bennett

The Loot

the mute meat log spreading sung
your face meal real space or
hung bread fog ,feet so cute the
suit glow ,greeting hog said ,rung
nor raced the wheel you feel the
place ,sore dung yr head sogged
speedy known loot




Numb hoof

numb ,pants ,tree ,shoe grown inky
with your cloud gun stance ,three glues
thrown quickly whipped the loud gasoline or
foot one dance ,free screws loaned thic
kly dropped the sounded asinine or
soot flung glance we knew ,groaned
sickly whipped the round mass nor
hoof