Dromediary

Long and hairy luminaries
hang from the sky and dangle scary
fingers downward in repose
just itching to twitch and pick my nose.

Prescient crescents—
the cartoon moons
fill the sky to seven deep
with beauty to cause my golden weep
as I burp softly in my sleep.

Luminous cumulous
clouds form a shroud
around "Downtown" Julie Brown
who just stopped by to make a sound
like a grandfather clock winding down.

The night is lacquered on my crackers
a taste familiar to midnight snackers
the milk is sweetly, sickly sour
when filtered through the midnight hour.

The juice is ruthless as my sweet tooth is
not satisfied by fried rice pies
this milky morsel's second course is
touched by meat from hobby horses.

Deaf angels sing out of key
on my balcony
as Mr T tells me to breathe
through the button hole in my sleeve.

Song birds sing the wrong words
with breath that smells like dog turds
as long herds of banisters
race the staircase
twisting down to infamy.

Breezy curtains swing
ruining everything
as my hair blows
up a goat's nose
and I rose
to piss like a fire hose.

Ray Manatino's Half-Remembered Classics
Jack Sprat could eat no fat but his wife was a big fat bitch. Shit could she eat, she ate all my beets and my pickled pig's feets. Next week poker's at your house, Jack. The itsy, bitsy, spider crawled up the water spout. I almost fucking died,... (9/20/04)

Whistlepig
Loud and sweet, the howling of the whistlepig erects my nipples like sails taut in the wind. Sailfish taught me to win by cheating at cards, like a cardinal at charms or an oriole with arms. Whistlepig, whistlepig, let me in, caught by... (8/23/04)

I Am the Girl From Nantucket
Since I believe my good name and hometown have been slandered long enough, I've endeavored to best (and hopefully replace) the famous ribald limerick that has dogged my earthly days. Stand back and smell the magic: There once was a... (6/28/04)