neal muzak makes love to the sun

neal muzak hammers the microphone

like lionel hampton building a woodshed out back

so he can sneak the rabbi's daughter

into the sin of synagogue

more science than humanities and more

art than anything

he is a student of the pencil thin mustache

if you look up neal muzak on youtube

you will find girls jumping on trampolines

and doing splits

you will find mythology. . .

a man who is the son of bending light

he is billy collins eating william


williams plums

with the juice dribbling

down the thigh of art center


he owes you tuesday and

will pay you on friday night

the vapor light slips from his poems

like morning humidity on the asphalt

there is no crank in frankenstien

no plight in a piano slip n slide

and at one time i was somebody

that was three thousand 27 poems ago

o yea, cha cha chaaa

i'm gonna close my eyes and tilt my head

back and forth --- slightly - - - - remembering

the gulf and the sun dipping into the blue

taking the hue of the evening and mixing it

like van gogh eating a dreamcycle

check your pockets, half of thursday is missing

and that sun set a hundred times

and that sun set a hundred times

and that was the setting of torrid good times

neal muzak wears a leather jacket

he is a crock pot on the counter making love

to the sun as it simmers in her own juices

money grows on trees

but neal muzak picks the juniper berry from

your gin and tonic and

paints watercolors in the world of make believe

he whispers honey in your ear

honey made from killer bees

you lean back into a dance of limbo

paying him with fingerprints

taken from red headed strangers

the pluck of cock o doodle do in the morning

and when the dawn comes

he will always leave you wondering

why earth's main star is wearing a smirk

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