J. D. Nelson
we are the argent in the buckle
is this the same old bull
               that walked by the window
                              at uncle jim’s farmhouse?
I am a rumbling machine
the carryover is the lost ankh of the delta
to a confused apple
a laugh is a glass answer
a serving of dust
suffering
a pyrite hammer to smell the world
to prove that there is a sun
I’m cloning a napkin using space dust
to enter the heavens
I’m having the graphite talk
               having a laugh in the brain forest
               I have been considering the moon
your serious eye
your lettered
eye
böhme (the light)
pyre!
trim the tooth
a miracle now
la cruz
the meter of the secrets
an iron clown watering a bug
a mile in the air
this is the eye, too
at dusk
bleeding scientifically
welding dave is the grandmaster of the parthenon
see that elf?
               today is the clean day
see the glass of the gnome?
               science is the wealth of the planet
               the wall of beards is confusing
               I’m singing the song of the frog
I’m mining the world of the bees
I’m driving a meteor
juneau a little week
that serious rabbit
the third wig
the scientific mushroom is a crooked lark
it is the brush of the computer
the silo on mars is my circuit
I’m changing the bread of the world tonight
I’ve seen the sun set
I’ve peeled back a layer of my talking hand
combining the wheat and the paste
forming a larger jupiter
the eeling of the computer
the wow for too long
               the salad earth is the footprint of jehovah
               the mild salsa earth in the corner of the blown mind
ok labor in heady laramie
the garbled smoke in the silence
I am the broken dollar of the coin-shaped radio
                              the hum
                              the ice
without the rose
I know of the bee
I went without the sun
I went without the ice, without a star
wrapped in the quilt of the frontier
the soup eats itself
the spoiled coil and the dada fink
that dollar bill is the agent of the carp
the strand of the frappé
               we are
               the lifebuoy name of the extra ham
weaving for the folk of the stars
the grass is the knife of the pig
the youth grape
a neighbor
                              the wild hero
the low saint of burgers
good morning
power is your morning, no morning
that same face in the twilight
               the x-ray namor of the prawn
saturn locke is the shadow of the head
                              one heck
a boiling noun (to my delight)
I am looking at the lake
is the martian air in your hair?
               do you care?
numbsun
today is tomorrow
an insect is on my screen
the tomato of tonight
the cry of the apple
the crumb of something
the elmer of the emerald
you’re silent
do you know of the burro?
when dracula plants the grass
we can copy the dna
J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poetry has appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including
Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His first full-length collection, entitled
in ghostly onehead, is slated for a 2021 release by mOnocle-Lash Anti-Press. Visit
http://www.MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.
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