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     The Literary Review


Page 61

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Always in the mood
    for Jiff Pickles

            the plumpest
pop-in-your-mouth pepper jars
    of anticarcinogenic panic.

        A knee-twirling
        pea shootin' panacea
        for gummy yearning.

A slurp of purpose
    for the yammerin' lip
        at a bar launching pina coladas

on a certain sad day in May
    as if you could tongue the Lord.

  Mitch Corber__






STUNNED MONKEYS IN A SAILOR BAR

Stunned monkeys in a sailor bar
       Orangutans in
                 a swivel harness

      Such is the treasure
              of the landscape lens

loping to the slow fizz
        of zealot politickers
                in a nether argument

                         in salon-drawn
                                          pigment

  Mitch Corber __



___________________

JAMESON!

Jameson! Jameson!
         get me my shoes and
                 a lit cigar James

I'm joining the union
         hardly a gnarling
                 sarcophagus

Is this Kansas or Colorado?
                 The plains today require
        hilly rocks to paint the
ornery portrait
                of tinny windows
         in the status house

                            of wanderlust

  Mitch Corber __


VIRTUAL POSE

You step into a virtual
                    purposeful pose
risking rosy futures in rust-colored
        glasses roasting little
                nothings on a kebab
                        spinster lamenting
                        her rings are all wrong

              there's
a song in there somewhere
        putting wherewithal
                in a scared hoot-n-holler

                         the taller gent
                         going last

  Mitch Corber__


CEMETERY WEDDING

You veer toward a cemetery wedding
     the doting flower girls
        furled pleats in zero hour

finessing little burnt candles
     the doting flower girlson a cakey masterpiece
        of flour — baking powder.

                You crack 2 eggs
            to get this right — sight
unseen a greener clime
            are those virgin narrows
                   harrowing.

  Mitch Corber__



________________________

JIM

Six strings ring a salivary mansion
    of tangy after-thoughts
        wrought solely of brie
              cheese appetites

       not until you see the white
summer closure expected
        in a black forest cheesecake

                late bloomers in
        a bing cherry wherabouts

                We've looked all over      for Jim

  Mitch Corber __