Maurice Burford

Two Poems

Like Gamma-Ray Guns You Can’t See In The Forest

Is murdering Suzanne
like a ray gun bringing the beer
in step with Ted
glass blower, genocidal
killer of small trees.

A small glass of bees and
ugly Pluto aligned with cute Pluto
will bring trees into a tavern
and we wish you to step with us
in a ceremony.

Cussing out trees, horny Pluto
slips ugly Ted and his ray gun
beneath a stand of bees
where a ceremony kisses
a glass Suzanne.

Then a cuss tree broke Pluto
into edible squares that the
bees took as a warning or
ray gun to smother taverns
full of drunk genocidal
train cars.

Where did Ted break bees
into pieces of hell, held in an
open tree under Pluto’s
ceremonial cuteness, which
can smell like a train of Teds.

Ray gun knelt under red
Suzanne heat as violin strings
hummed cute tavern drunks
to a place where warm squares of light
are genocidal or just edible bees.

Montana, do you ever sing to the moth on my chest.
— For Ted Berrigan

Montana did you build
a deer or a beard in
the dull grounds of
sea thistle.

A deer wearing a beard
intent on building
a sea out of owl grounds
and the thistle sings
beer drinking songs.

Dear editor,
while drinking owls
and rush of beards
tackled a deer wearing
the sea as a hat.

Upon flushing out songs
the sea growled at a owl
who picked thistle from his
beard which was cue
to his broken glasses and
his professors hat.

Growing tired
with his deer in tow
the hat cued the sea
to break owls open
and drink the beer inside.

Most old bearded owls
know better but still
break cradles and piss
in the sea, with his hat
on, the thistle in his cheek.

Bye bye piss caked glasses
even if you knew better
than deer, hats, the sea,
some popes still fuck up
the economy, but it sure
was a nice owl.

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