Found Scribble #8

1 sparkly, noncy, swirly, bulbous
really hot with a blurreling sun,
shimmering, colorful, scuttly

2 6 feet by 6 feet by 1 feet
multi-colored like a disco
ball, feels like different
things on different
sides: rough, smooth, furry,
pointy, soft, gummy
alien material from planet
Woppooo
sounds hollow, but isn’t
(how do I know?)
right next to me
flat on sand on top of
a tiny pedestal
groovy, curious, funky,
alive, wicked

3 rainbow drop ladder
laying flat on sand
23.5 rungs
as light as a feather
it’s curly, like a
spiral staircase

4 big horse, it’s green
(perhaps yellow) with a
funny little horse tackle
stuff, saddle like
walnuts
it’s tied to the ladder
by bridle
named Hieronymous
it’s eating an apple
and doing number
tricks with its hooves
it has glasses

5 it’s tiny 5 ft X 5 ft X 5 ft
a little black rain
cloud it’s scurrying
about trying to rain
on horses parade
and mine, but
we have umbrellas
so ha!

6 1 flower in a pot
it’s a daisy. yellow
6 petals a long thin
stalk
it’s happy when the
storm swings by
(no umbrella)
pleasant & creepy

Found Scribble #7

this time the gator’s thrashing in the pool and you folks had better climb out lest you lose your cares and foibles. I don’t understand why the teeth that gnaw you to pieces can ever stop but when they do I am just so bewildered. Even the dairy cows just squeak the day away in their arrogant patois that just leaves everyone breathless for more. forego your scary tales of dark surprise for even cauliflower runs the gamut of all or nothing and so but everyone wants to know more about the 3 kinds of asparagus. can’t you find a more clever answer for you all-or-nothing? What’ve you got that fits inside the keyhole? well stick it in if that’s all you’ve got. There’s no reason to keep storming about the place in all of your despair and in your pink tortoise floaties. be sure to inflate them before diving in. but do not use them in lieu of actual swimming for you will surely be drownded in a trice. Which reminds me of the postman who caught his death of a chill and collapsed post-haste, so to speak. I can’t understand these small children who squat in small boxcars far away. if only they’d see reason and hide in hay barrels!