the true artist helps the world by revealing mystic truths

truth is a snail.
truth is an earlobe.
truth is a testicle.
truth is a spiral fire-escape.
truth is a roll of stamps, unrolled.

the artist is a licker of stamps.
the truest artist licks the truest stamps.



gym rat

"you know," he tells me,

"i was really a great kid,
good at any sport,
always ready for fun,
happy, cheerful, never in
any serious trouble,"

then adds, with a laugh,

"i just wasn't much good
as an adult."



clown torture


who better to torture?
who more deserving of it?
who would better understand it?
who would make funnier noises?
and ronald mc donald most of all.



beach scene with a breakwater, 1899-1900

did james abbott mcneill whistler
like chololate fudge?
smudge, smudge, smudge, smudge,
smudge, smudge, smudge. 



a highly esteemed colleague

"the real problem with english 194,"
toad's colleague finally explodes in exasperation,
"is that the students simply don't
know jack shit!"

the young feminist chairing the meeting
brings it to order
and begins to jot names
for the speaking list.
toad raises his hand
and his name is added to it.
he waits patiently and,
when his turn arrives ten minutes later,
asks,

"is jack still teaching 194?"

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