The Alphabet, Part III

Things are getting hairy.  No, not down there, I hit puberty months ago.  I mean the Sasquatch I am tracking.  There are no Sasquatch on the Internet, and that is scary to me.  When absurd loses its meaning we are all Shelley's rowboat: no current current.

I.

I'll intuit a while - itching for inklings -

Sitting high on a pile of Inuit tile

Smile. I think things, I think.

J.

Joyous Hajj just south of Jersey

To abject jub-drowned jurisdiction

Jingoes judged by jilted juries

K.

Jack a whole stack of darkened 8-tracks,

For a lark in the park putting smack into sacks

Crystalline cracks lack the tact of your act

Because even when you are too good for structure, environment and assholes' opinions, you still need all of those things to express the original thought.

- Bullfrog Kauffman

The Alphabet, Part II

After E, the alphabet gets decidedly less friendly.  Consonants come out of the fucking woodwork and you'd better hope you have more than a quarter tank left when you are cruising toward its buxom midsection.

F.

Rough Kerfuffle over a tufted truffle

Enough in the duffle for a fortnight's tussle;

Suss out the fluff before the five-card shuffle!

G.

"Grand Canyon," grinned the gray Cayman.

"A great gallumphing gorge, edged by stodgy green grass,

With ledges as high as the glassy night sky."

H.

Breathy whorls huffed by homestead ranch hands

While threading husks through stretchy, itch-proof conch strands

A shy, overshorn mensch to watch the ashy badlands.

Hellbent on flooding your basement marketplace with everything short of tyranny.

-- Severino the Younger