Saturday, October 13, 2012

Rats



In the basement there are
rats:
green glowing rats.

In the walls there are 
rats:
green glowing rats.

They're there, they're 
here.

Beady eyes, beady
brains: rats.

Electric lime Jello rats.

Lawn's 

ALIVE

with green glowing 
rats spouting
tarot fortunes.

They're there,
showboating
soothsayers,
rays of rats.

Under bed: a
solid sovereignty
of rat mafia:
trundling
green
glowing rats.

Shouldn't someone
notify 
proper authority?

A horror show, ghastly.
Lurid, too.

Sickening, if
you must
know.

Tumbling from maple,
scooting 'cross rooftop,
gnawing evergreen...

Perched on my
shoulder:
droll
insouciant rat
sophisticate.

Collecting cobweb 
on whisker,
hear them above,
my dove,
so many tiny 
tiny tiny feet,  
dry rusty attic,
theirs complete,
dry rusty
dusty
attic leaky.

Scores of rats. Hundreds
of ratty rat-hearted
rats: green
glowing electric lime 
Jello. It stopped
being funny a
long while 
ago.

Rattled. 

In the car? They're 
there, as well, as well
as the well, diving to
heart's content,
breaststroke the
currently current
rat rage.

Electric current
electric lime Jello
Jello

Jello rats.

And what is evidence for these
extravagant claims? Fellow
hasn't any.