the galaxy is the key of the brook
underground (where we ate the snake)I lost a finger in the garden
the parrot on the iceberg is eating charcoal chowder
above the gulf was a cloud
I was coiled for the radio of the sainted knuckle
in the cloned apple room there is a book of these poems
we are in the pages, too
when I am the galactic, I shall remain in the soil to tend the garden
there is a bear here
eating the popcorn of the normal worldwe blame the furnace when there is no ice
we are in the streets
we are in the stew
in the luck of the world there is a new elm
(in the forest of the light)
in the stomach there are birds
and in the air we have a rain
the name of the world is the blinking noun
it could be the citrus of the brain
being a broken idea is faster
where are we in the wheel?
the science machine & the detroit fusion
on the small side of the sun there is a windowwith the mind of the apple
scramble the bedding of the toes
to soul a freeze
escaping am and pm
on the island of the faces
I was the talking sand of the mouth
I was a natural eye of the order
the chandelier of the nose
to win a skull
a crater of the laugh
gold is the number of the shaking dream
mars is the lanky poison
martians are cleversilver shoals
the jumbled sun
the classic dream supplants the fist
the gain here in the wilds of the moor
I was g. garfield (tusk)
I’m on the marble checkerboard
I was a rat with the power to surf the brain
to be seated when I am a friend
the clever rose
the cranberry of the sleep-o
ion.in my miniature circle
an apple for the sandwich*
the glow of the wind
this is the certain world of the face
the fright of the basketball
the fish to swim a swum
the circular sweetness in my morning
*1990
to move through the self as the other
I’m on the little moonthe cardboard hoax
the laser is my light
I’m on the better world
the bakery is my night lock
or paddington bear
the gulf of patterns
the parrot of the park
the pomme of the wild
the elusive cup of butter
the natural american earth
parking lousebarn balm
a rope is the noodle of the light
the concrete number of the lake
the struggling hush
the laser lack
the owl is the source of copper and iron
were you over the glen?
the daylight sports apple
at the corner of head and foote
the shape of the ceres
earth is the center of the brain
a news lariat for the dolphin
a child of the swarm becomes the initial iristhe morning is the wind of the science
hey, scoop! can we funnel a dream thru the wall?
eating the heart of the winter
a minor minoan world is the same as the field of the bulls
to complete that old honey hive
the brass of the jungle
I was the talking frog who joined the army with the webbed weaponry
bio/graf:
J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poetry has appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of several collections of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). His poem, “to mask a little bird” was nominated for Best of the Net in 2021. Visit http://MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA. Twitter: @madverse.
Art: Fragments & Juxtapositions: Visual poems for JD Nelson. (c) 2022 by Robert Frede Kenter.
Robert Frede Kenter is the publisher, mid-wife and EIC of Ice Floe Press. The VISPO collection, EDEN, was published in 2021 (Floodlight Eds.). Robert’s art work & writing have been exhibited & published widely, internationally. Twitter: @frede_kenter.
IceFloe Press 