haibun for harryette #3

pop pop goes the weasel weasel. pop pop goes the weasel the weasel. pop pop goes the weasel weasel. pop goes the weasel cause the weasel goes pop. are we all so reactionary? hammered and jumping knees. ping! ping! ting. ting. ting aling aling. dance and then swing. like puckered lips and lemon nipples. i hope not. oh how i hope there are more reasons to piss than drinking too much water. bu ya kaa bu ya kaa.

i do not hunt the farmer's market's most brilliant garlic and stew poems becuase my mother stews. i do not stand on the jagged heels because my mother stands. i do not sleep in the hollow breath of a nightmare because my mother sleeps. bu ya kaa bu ya kaa. is it egotistical to believe we are planets, netted and atmosphered unto ourselves? unto ourselves? yea, that's a philosophical ballet the universe knows not to commission.

i am a bowl of stars minty appendages willow and wanton and birthing multiple babies with out spilling a teaspoon of
milky way