[28401 – 28500]


“What sclerotic bibliomaniac,

coincidental with his psychologist,

bussed in these upflung glossaries & down-

loaded them to the icebox?” abridges

a crapulous Nigerian who yaws

again to sidestep a hyperbolic

Swazi cannonball. (That was touch-&-go.)

What a worrier! What a temerarious

ranter! (Here he yorks in order to toughen

his sphincter.) What a miniscule klepto-

maniac! “Must they all, on a bender

of mayhem & abomination, gimp

at the bloodroot of organizational

racism, interacting only to

revitalize their blurry egos?”

[28601 – 28700]


Now, at mid-May in Trapani, plangent

stickleback, with scalene asymmetry,

sheave the seaway in free-for-all bonding

& fusiform interrelation. Was it

Polyhymnia that gelt Castrato?

Does dialog desktop shareware outrank

the monochromatic brume of all this

iconography? Was it wrongheaded

accountancy or simply numismatics

that overlie the Oslo Olympics?

Would’ve anything kept the pterodactyl

from the piglets? Would’ve it been so

allegedly ultra-exceptional

for the oligarch to misplace his Jeep?

[23601 – 23700]


One AM in the insectivorous

Maldives where busybodies dismantle

their esculent lingerie glumly

& etymologically, yet uncontested.

Ah, cohabitation. . . .  Crap! A matchlock!

Pappy, oh Pappy! A motorcycle

advertises such vulgarism &

wastage while hare-brained tom-tom outbid them,

nog upon nog, & coagulation

of  the Eucharist actuates

zodiacal, agnostic sciatica.

For colophon, the bravura, baroque

nocturne of a fledgling saleswoman:

Best to lacerate then sprint away.

[23901 – 24000]

Relight the astrolabe fey Netherlander,

for I’m conflicted.  Though I peddle my

unheroic tricycle, all godspeed

& weirdness, at evensong a bullfinch

deadens the seamless margrave with saltpeter.

Relight the handspike, for this nerve-racking

snapshot is mushy & insubstantial

as a puree of bumptious Newtonian

transcendentalism.  Mime on moony

stammerer. Relight the ovule, gullible

ventriloquist, & outflank the buttock of

coronary morbidity:  for screed

is pottle to the teetotaler, as

instrumentation is prophylactic

to the wolverine.

[33001 – 33100]

Pocked with paintwork, Lulu mighta been

moonlighting. No tomboyish shogun, but

no sadist, either, she was as left-wing

& luminescent as the Erinyes

on the freeway. She could scam a Rodin

out of a hexahedron. She mighta

been a godforsaken luddite, but her

mega-wonky weathervane, as much as

her hedonic headwind, was undepraved.

We getup to publicize the “gotcha”

lovage of salami knackers &

overplay the Maharashtra back in

Muskogee. What mighta been!  Instead we’re

goners for gimlet-eyed ophthalmology.


Peter J. Grieco

Peter J. Grieco is a retired English professor and former school bus driver. His poems are widely published in small magazines on-line and in print. His blog “At the Musarium and Other Writings” [https://pjgrieco.wordpress.com/] archives much of this work. His chapbook collection of ekphrastic verse, “The Bind Man’s Meal,” is forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.

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