Tater
By Fred Schneider
A very bad boy was little Tater:
He stuck an air hose in Sis’s mouth
and proceeded to inflate her.
Tater tied her to a string
And floated her to cloud height;
She drifted with the passing breeze,
A cute little pigtailed kite.
When mater looked up and saw her daughter
Drifting as light as a feather,
She cupped her hands and gave a shout,
“Watch out now for inclement weather.”
Vegetable Swallow
by Tristan Tzara
two smiles meet towards
the child-wheel of my zeal
the bloody baggage of creatures
made flesh in physical legends-lives
the nimble stags storms cloud over
rain falls under the scissors of
the dark hairdresser-furiously
swimming under the clashing arpeggios
in the machine's sap grass
grows around with sharp eyes
here the share of our caresses
dead and departed with the waves
gives itself up to the judgment of time
parted by the meridian of hairs
non strikes in our hands
the spices of human pleasures
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