550: Attempts at Surrealist Free Association Poems

Here they are, in no particular order. I'm not sure that I like them much, but there are some moments that work for me. I just don't know how such a conscious, physical act of writing, using language, can ever be fully free or unconscious. So, I know that some intention may have crept in here, but I found it difficult to "short-cut the mind."

Solitaire
ascending and descending cards
descending to the labyrinth
and Gollum’s cave through the
light of guitars the effusion
of mustiness and youth like an
elixir of gravy pouring from buckets
ever-present length of rope and
sand downing drowning

Bamboo
milky green and grapefruit
multi-hued multi-toned segments
of song brimming off the page leaving
nothing of substance except the
scent of brainwaves carrying the
message of turns through childhood
the elusive moral of sharing never
quite learned until mirrors morph
candles into clocks

Black and White
The animated soul of the pen
stumbles
creeping on all fours back to
the first love of page
and knight
castle and chorus join hands to
celebrate the marriage of money
and sense forever foraging
forests
of lines and squiggles for the one
which won’t escape
like a penguin in the Sahara

Search and Destroy
Blueberry skies and periwinkle oceans
blend into eggplant horizons
keeping the mind at bay while
the brain frolics through frosty
puzzles winning none leaving
some for the errant spider who
asks where we put the pie

Bubblegum
Pink Britney Spears Elephants again
Where did the asparagus go How
am I getting home Does the emperor
eat the ice cream Maybe his brain
is full of fluffy pink robots marching
to a mariachi tune I don’t know
where South America spills into
North America What comes from
purple pairings? Yellow submarines
dancing in a grassy field Snow
Harbor Why is the ghost in a sheep
costume and where are my cigarettes
Waterfalls trails tripping on stones
three blind mice coming at me
with a knife Awkward moments
of silence mashed potatoes and
cream

Glass Doctor
We fix your panes
My pains are the elegant delicate
old lady kind genteel in their torture
generously wracking
Muddy is messy and my heart
aches for pancakes but all will
be well when the lion roars
through my toes like the light
of a remote control