Strange & Strange

Strange and Strange met at the Strange Pool with a lunchbox full of Strange Sandwiches.

“These will make us feel Stranger than Strange,” said Strange.

“Stranger than Stranger than Strange,” said Strange.

“Is it fair to name your kid Strange,” asked Strange.

Strange had just taken a bite of his Strange Sandwich so his Strange Cheeks were too full to answer. He shrugged and kicked his Strange Toes in the Strange Pool. Splish-splash.

“What kind of sandwiches are these?” Strange asked after a while.

“Strange Baloney, Strange Bread, and Strange Cheese.”
Strange and Strange ate the whole box of Strange Sandwiches but didn’t feel any Stranger.

Levi

Levi in jeans with a revolver

Shows us where the black trumpets grow

We put them in our jeans, in our night-pockets.

You know 666 from the Bible?

It’s the devil.

It’s a computer.

I won’t allow a computer in my house.

Levi is the great-great-great-great grandnephew of Daniel Boone

My ancestors founded this country

Now it’s all gone to hell

God will clean it up again.

Three big bags of mushrooms

Sautéed in leftover bear fat

jet planed to our bellies

jet planed to our brains

svelte and hollow,

black like dark thoughts,

greasy sheened esophagi.

A Sudden Realization

“Hello, little boy! I have many dried plants

But the problem is I need them in these sacks

The sacks are small and velvet

With embroidered silver moons

See? They’re sitting in the closet with the axe.

So your job, little boy, and I’ll pay you for your work,

Is to cut the plants to pieces neat and round

Then you’ll stuff them in the sacks

From the closet with the axe

And I’ll pay you for your cutting by the pound.”

So the little boy sat, by the closet with the axe

And he cut the plants to pieces neat and round

He was working on his knees

And the plant-dust made him sneeze

And it took him fifteen hours to trim a pound.

He was there for many weeks, color draining from his cheeks

Scissors snipping ‘til the plants were cut to size

Then he stuffed them in the sacks

Brushed the leaf bits from his slacks

And lay down a while to rest his weary eyes.

“Why, hello, little boy! You have cut these very well!

I will take these sacks and pay you by the weight.”

“Good, great,” said the boy. “Good, great,” said the man.

“Good, great,” said them both. “Good, great.”

It was all good great, ‘til the boy said, “What’s the fate

Of all these sacks? Where are they sent? Where do they go?”

And the man said, “Shh,”

And gave the boy a red balloon

And said: “Now that is not a thing for you to know.”

The room was quiet. Then—

‘SMASH!’ and the closet axe crashed!

And a violent ‘ZOP!’ and the red balloon popped!

And a terrible ‘OOF!’ and the man went ‘POOF!’

And transformed into a wizard on the spot

And he summoned forth the sacks

And he summoned forth the axe

And the boy said, “Oh, I see! You’re growing pot.”