How We Sizzled in the Pasture

By Gerrit Lansing

for Kenward Elmslie

Down in the boondocks rhematic sinsigns multiply
 
                           jug jug to hungry ghosts,
                           bursting open pearly gates.
 
    “Aint no grace, aint no guilt,
          popcorn twiddle, come full tilt”
 
 
                           handy pathfinders whoop
 
                                           at no-restriction hurdles :
 
 
       Da woid ob sin aint dare at all,
       not in giggles nor reddening toes
 
                 no think blink
                 no tattle no buckle
        high dick fun at the fair.
 
Vestigial legisigns just don’t operate,
 
healty wisps entwining and buzzing,
 
hinterland busy with fresh huggermugger.
 
                                    Replica points:
                                you point your toes
                       in fact it’s toes we fluffily toss.
 
Secret moon lotion rub by reedy pool.
 
“They call me Googoo” I said, I…..
 
 
                                          All upsurge, hot tip
 
                                          green informants signify
 
                                          the trees are barking
 
                                          “cheeze it, the cops.”
 
                                          Trees tease, twinkle.
 
           That need being versed in country things:
 
                                          guiltless I milked the cow,
 
                                          slaughtered chicken,
 
                                          swam with snakes,
 
 
           unjust barefoot hobbledehoy
 
                                                                            ahoy.
 

Copyright Credit: Gerrit Lansing, "How We Sizzled in the Pasture" from A February Sheaf: Selected Writings, Verse and Prose. Copyright © 2003 by Gerrit Lansing.  Reprinted by permission of Gerrit Lansing.
Source: A February Sheaf: Selected Writings, Verse and Prose (Pressed Wafer, 2003)