Goddess Of Yodeling Mermaids And Fire-Eating Pelicans

Beneath the crescent moon
she dances the tarantella
with mammoth Martian crabs
of Burracho Beach.


Wildly she skips and twirls,
weaving veils of electric sand
between her and the leaden world
of sleepwalkers.


She invented polyester.
The graveyard shift psychic
at Henry Lung Fortune Cookie Works,
she plays alto sax with
the jazz quintet Wind Chill.
She has a pet ocelot named Leon.


Her bruised, brooding eyes
make Frankenstein's seem
shy and small.
She will convince you
the corner panhandler is
the second coming of Christ.
Without her, the seas
must turn to sand.

by David Kowalczyk

Comments (47)

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i think poems or any poems are amazing
good poem showing the reality of house wife standing at window and watching presenting with 10
oh. cryed. because this poem makes me cry cause of the ajbdyfeucgryfhrugggggggggggggggggggggggggg
A concise and jaundiced view of the universe.
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