Aught, no. 14 (2005)


Chris Piuma and Ron Henry

Ghazals

1.

This is based on what I have read so far; does it sound good?
Took notice of reverse. Their fight on odd same-sex ed.

The excess mass don't fire wrath — or even floss it. (Honk it,
'Twixt appleseed and marsh gas, and look for a real slick fit.

Tiff kills Lear, a (rough/cool/nice) egg, shined in his ill-packed suit.
In college, I learned to mangle (metaphors/stories/eggheads), give shiners.

Shrine, nor figs digested rough. Fatten name-mooted rules like jello, canny.
Hello? We will not wait much longer to be told where to place our fannies.

Seen a frown. Sailboat raid, oh the boat. Wrinkled chum: two-ton Louie. Ole'!
Don't walk in on me when I'm taking a bath, OK?

Code a bag on a cat-o'-mine when no knuckle ought nod;
Stand on the lawn and try to guess the depth of the wet sod.


2.

DOS to us, for the butt of Sega. Tired and walled off, not nice!
This is the way the world ends: beedy-beedy-beedy.

"Eat a beet," he pleads. "Don't addle her." (A voice has it.)
Meanwhile, sad, I shuffle my feet and hit the ENTER key once.

Snow. We cretinous did native. I'm Elvis, I'd ask Slimy.
The fuzz, man! Cedar bridge to sell. Grouchy in the heinie.

He needs Nietzch— ow! Growls out, "Gee, braid his names; a fuss."
None of the German philosophers brought their lunches onto the bus.

Submitted now. Such an old razor rips a lifted ridge. Phone in.
My advice: leave Barcelona immediately. Hang up, hang out, hang in.

Night antenna, impugn a healed eye, demi-annul Ravel's I.V. (Yam.)
What's unsolicited, greasy, and eats good with Velveeta? (Spam.)

My spout I've left to the Disney; circuit is a loner's toe.
Wiggle if your cock in my hand gives you a charge. (Boners grow.)

War guess or enough grass, oh yes; evict named cogs Roy, Phil, and "W".
After completing the project I was left with mystery part "X".


3.

<start> Arrest him! Thwat! [Fell.] So I'd catch up. And... Get help! Come here! <fin>
Polite applause. Puzzled heads. [...the hell?] What... then?

Nest of wallets. Dead suppose all petals' hope.
Test of bullets. Kids oppose mall mettle's trope.

POACH: Sell them all (um, suppose) dicks. Tell of upset.
COACH: Catch 'em and flip 'em, roundaboutwardsly. Rejoice.

Saw her heels (distraught) over a dour map. I'll founder, meek: talk; choke.
"Little remained to make the thing 'happen'," he slowly bespoke.

Cozy below. Seen a penguin? OK mood. Name: Ear Hotel.
All below. Seen it over. Yeah, yeah. We: Are There!

Ere thaw hay, hay's revolting niece: wool. (Ebb; blah.)
Thus do the seasons whirl, to clothe us all. (Stop; yadda.)

 

No

1.

 

2. Code 'A'

 

3.

 

4.  "Says You're A -- "

 

5. Bar-rap

       (Confused, with feeling)

//: So I says to the other guy /
   OH WOULD THAT THESE WORDS COULD SPEAK
The other guy takes a drink /
   AND I WOULD DIE A THOUSAND DEATHS
Someone buys a round of drinks /
   FOR YOUR SWEET KISS, DEAR READER,
Rounded up my coat and went home /
   YOU CAN READ BETWEEN THE LINES
Home is where I lays my head /
   BUT CAN YOU HEAR MY MOANIN'?
With my head in my hands I says ://

 

6.

Speed cup
      won on demand.
Old earwards,
      a tune we all lov'd.
Thug-eyed rinks
      wrastlin' drools.
Mike Otis, hm.
      He knew my pa.
My coat is home, 
      But I am not.

 

7.

La la la, dah, la la la, (saith the Lord)

Doo dit dah doo, (continueth He)

Wah, dee-dop, dit dee-whoo, (He anticipateth thy questions)

Sha-bat do wah, ding-a-loo la. (and curty dismisseth them)

Doo-dah sha-dee la doo, (and what canst thou do on it?)

Ta-ti dee deet dee deet doo! (when He pluggeth His ears?)

 


Copyright 2005, by Chris Piuma and Ron Henry. All rights reserved.
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