Sunday, January 25, 2009


What and why do not mean what we think they mean
on the island of "Good Coconuts",
watch them grow and become one with us.
Hail God of the coconuts planted above
we will not eat you while we live beneath you for fear of concussions.

Green-orange, blossoms drip lemon drops into the sea
against the ever-never-changing shore,
met by the emerald combed-mashed potatoes
holding long conversations with the clouds
in a sky where turquoise rendezvous with emerald at the lost horizon.

Giant butterflies sing silent songs to the breeze
kissing scented flowers, so rare that few know their names,
at night we know they hear our whispers
because they play Beethoven at breakfast in the morning
while watching people pay to ride the big yellow banana,
just so they can get off quickly.

Big golden Buddha trickster serving me lovely inedible desserts,
Can I ride the big yellow banana now?

© 1996 Mach B

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