a bit of whimsy for the susceptible proofilites

strike up the band.
roll out the barrel.
there's a weedy blither blather of wit-smarfs
holding court. there are tall ones,
short ones, fat ones, thin ones.
there are green ones, white ones,
pink ones, yellow ones, crayon-colored
ones.
it's quite a mix.
they all talk earnestly. some speak
of death. some speak of forgetting
the past and moving on with the
jelly bean eating contest.  there is
quite a bit of discussion on that
issue until the cute sexy naked
young men show up and begin
publicly masturbating.  these
young men have big dicks, too. real
big. there
is spectacting. there is lactating.
there is near-hemorraging, but not
really.  what a summer day it
becomes as the butterflies land
freely on the heads of whomever
they choose. some think it's
the sign of god. some think
it's the sign of the devil. there
is much more discussion than
usual. meanwhile, the sexy
young men have all spurted
their daily allotment of cum
and walked away, far out of
sight. even though they
are out of view, there is speculation
that those sexy young men are
touching each other in inappropriate
ways. there's a flurry. hot wet blizzards
materialize and roll over plant
life. it's a real miasma of
matriculosity. there's farting.
burping. gnashing of toothy knees.
you want conflagration, those folks
will show you how to conflagrate. these
wit-smarfs eat well, and often.
but there's no real appreciation
of their food. they don't live
like that. it's better to say
that in the month of june, they
prefer july. nobody asks real
questions anymore. everybody's
too sure of everything. oh how
the little dogs laugh and kiss
butt. all mules (be they male or
be they female) are normally sterile, but
they fuck anyway and sometimes
all their fucking pays
off. have you ever heard of a
baby mule that had a mommy mule for
its mommy instead of the normal
configuration which is a daddy jackass
and a mommy horse? No? Thought not.
well that's because
mules are hybrids (jackass x horse: two
different species) and most
hybrids are sterile. but every now
and then, there's a fertile act
of copulation mule-wise-speaking,
and then you wind up with a pregnant mule
grazing in your pasture and
if all goes ok you've soon got a
cute little baby mule on your hands.
Maybe you'll
name it "blue moon" because it's
that rare. now wit-smarfs just love
getting their hands on one of those rare little
"blue moons" and making it one of their own.
they pet it till
it thinks it's loved. in reality,
though, the washboard copyright
of the inactive session is more
than anyone can fathom, and
the jelly bean eating contest thank god
goes off without so much as
an ecstatic quiver. all
the little "blue moons" of
the world are just bone-dry sterile; actually it's
in fact the law. they're cute though.
but sexy naked young big-dicked masturbating men spurting
cum, that's pretty cute too.
now now none of that.
no not a bit; they mean business, baby,
those wit-smarfs, oh
how they mean business plain-speaking pointy-pouts
that they dearly are. 

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem also appears in my book Gorilla Architecture, published by Interior Noise Press in 2011.)