*E.T. POEM HOME*

fixin’ to do a little space walking, the domestic sentence is—
so says the spokesperson of the spokespeople

breaker breaker—
we just got lifted / got we just flung / we just got view

crossed the B Franklin Br with the cyclist in your psyche—
took Astronaut Ave. out to the empyrean

operated the apparatus of paradise—
ULTRA CONCENTRATED JOY dish liquid, refreshing lemon

breaker breaker—
we see now the cosmicality / see now to the thru

the feet-foot of the lice-louse—
“Two shot in Southwest Philadelphia”

the teeth-tooth of the geese-goose—
“Female sprinters leapt off the blocks on a Chinese island”

stutter-stepped in suffixes, wound up all -en -est -n’t -ized
& now, Willy Wonka doesn’t wanna without his eye patch on

breaker breaker—
we wanted to know if there was n.e. new news w/ ewes

bike-psyched, washing dishes, spinning vinyl flying saucers:

for all the DJs sick on their turntables—
repeat to the beat for another “orbit” scratch technique

but oh, how apropos:
my coworker’s a portable putting green behind my cubicle—

(“Am I to abandon my post?” ponders the Foolosopher—
“Or just my assumptions?”)

landing on Astroturf, somethin’ wildly outer space about it—
so says the spokesperson of the spokespeople