Cakes Are for Baking

"Cakes are for baking
and rakes are for raking,"
declared Paul Von Nosberg
Von Shaking.
"Numerous studies
have indicated the same thing,"
he said as he buffed
his large amethyst ring.
"Ships are for shipping
and chips are for chipping,"
he continued,
though little encouragement came.
"Though not for dipping,
as dips are made for the same."

"Meats are for meeting,
and fleas are but fleeting,"
he pondered as he scratched his strange chin.
"And therefore ticks are for tickling,
and sticks are all sticky,"
his eyes lit as he grinned a pontificant grin.
"In tombs filled with tumors…
you cough in your coffin.
And in day old-canoe,
in robes made for rowing
we paddle with oars but not witches…"

"Which witch grabbed the oar or the paddle,
which, padded, was added to the boat for an ad, which I wrote?
Do not eat a donut in shorts that show nuts if you're grown-up.
And if you groan up tree number three, which is a Douglas fir,
doubtless fur will fall in the Fall,
as chipmunks who live with hens within when scared are given not to shitting but, as ought to, shedding."

"I met a man named Mark who I avoided,
lest my hands turn black.
But I was quite keen on Carrie,
since I had some heavy boxes waiting around the back.
I met Robbie in the lobby and when I did I clutched my handbag tight.
I thought Will was too determined, and Davie kept me up at night.
Hal I found quite funny
Bill just wanted my money
As did Sue, though she was less polite."

"Charles burnt my hot dogs,
Bertha goes into labor every time she jogs,
Miles made me wait too long,
Paul kept humming this depressing song,
John pissed me off,
Dusty made me cough,
Pat was too touchy-feely,
Lisa's monthly payments kept her from living freely,
Sharon had nothing of her own,
and Peter?"

"He was just a dick."

There Was No Way to Tell
The tree hopped down from the hill and he dashed through the field. The sun had been peeled and the clouds were as plump as a Chinaman's rump. A squirrel was asleep on a branch, he awoke with a blanch and he turned a stark white when the... (12/9/02)

Through the Colon of a Whale
A Gonit on a sled races home to his bed through the colon of a whale sleeping on a bed of shale snoring gently, without fail. Through corridors the green sled slid past hooks and nooks where blue snails hid by toreadors who long debated ... (12/9/02)

The Girl Everyone Just Sort of Assumed Was Native American
Here is a tale, well-learned, well-told, about a girl of fifteen years old. A girl nearly so old she could drive with pretty brown skin and a look in her eye. Between that and how she called the corn "maize" everyone thought her and Indian... (11/11/02)