for Yoko Ono
Loops on bold fonts now form lots of words for books. Books form cocoons of comfort – tombs to hold bookworms. Profs from Oxford show frosh who do post-docs how to gloss works of Wordsworth. Dons who work for proctors or provosts do not fob off school to work on crosswords, nor do dons go off to dorm rooms to loll on cots. Dons go crosstown to look for bookshops known to stock lots of top-notch goods: cookbooks, workbooks – room on room of how-to books for jocks (how to jog, how to box), books on pro sports: golf or polo. Old colophons on schoolbooks from schoolrooms sport two sorts of logo: oblong whorls, rococo scrolls – both on worn morocco.
Monks who vow to do God’s work go forth from donjons of monkhood to show flocks lost to God how God’s word brooks no crooks who plot to do wrong. Folks who go to Sodom kowtow to Moloch, so God drops H-bombs of horror onto poor townsfolk, most of whom mock Mormon proofs of godhood. Folks who do not follow God’s norms word for word woo God’s scorn, for God frowns on fools who do not conform to orthodox protocol. Whoso honors no cross of dolors nor crown of thorns doth go on, forsooth, to sow worlds of sorrow. Lo! No Song of Solomon comforts Job or Lot, both of whom know for whom gongs of doom doth toll. Oh, mondo doloroso.
Porno shows folks lots of sordor – zoom-shots of Björn Borg’s bottom or Snoop Dogg’s crotch. Johns who don condoms for blowjobs go downtown to Soho to look for pornshops known to stock lots of lowbrow schlock – off-color porn for old boors who long to drool onto color photos of cocks, boobs, dorks or dongs. Homos shoot photos of footlong schlongs. Blond trollops who don go-go boots flop pompoms nonstop to do promos for floorshows. Wow! Hot blonds who doff cotton frocks show off soft bosoms. Hot to trot, two blonds who smooch now romp on cold wood floors for crowds of morons, most of whom hoot or howl: whoop, whoop.
Blond showfolk who do soft porn go to boomtowns to look for work on photo shoots. Molls who hobnob from mob boss to mob boss croon solos from old torchsongs. Molls who do so do so molto sordo – too slow for most crowds to follow, so most crowds scoff: boo, boo. Folks who do not know how to plot common chords for rock songs or folk songs soon look for good songbooks on how to do so. Folks too cool to go to sock hops go to Woodstock rock shows to do pot, not to foxtrot to Motown rondos of pop, bop or doo-wop. Congo bongos throb to voodoo hoodoo; tom-toms for powwows go boom, boom. Gongs go bong. Kotos go bonk. Horns honk: toot, toot.
Folks from Kokomo do lots of shrooms (not snow, not blow – no form of hops). Folks who long to prolong moods of torpor do Zoloft or nod off on two drops of chloroform. Goofs who goof off go off to poolrooms to jolt down lots of good strong bock from Coors or Stroh. Most tosspots who toss down jolts of Grolsch do so to drown sorrows. Poor sots, blotto on two shots of scotch, go loco for old port or hot grog. Lots of hobos who do odd jobs for food go off to work to work on jobs no boss stoops to do – jog brooms of soot, mop floors of loos. Old coots, known to go to grogshops for snorts of wormwood hooch, go on to mooch dogfood from dogs.
Snobs who go to Bonn for bonbons know how to shop for good food: go to Moncton for cod, go to Concord for lox. Cooks who know how to cook coq d’or cook cochon d’Ormont or cochon d’Orloff, not pork chops or pork hocks. Cooks who do not know how to cook posh food do not opt to shop for lots of tools: no woks, spoons or forks, no pots, crocks or bowls. Cooks from Foochow or Soochow chow down on two sorts of broth: oolong or wonton. Folks from Stockholm scoff down bowls of borscht. Folks too poor to chow down on bon porc or coq gros wolf down corncobs or corndogs. Moms cook hotdogs for tots who chomp on orts of popcorn.
Scows from London go to Moscow, not to Boston, to drop off bolts of mothproof cloth: wool for long johns, wool for work socks. Moors from Morocco, not from Kowloon, go to Oporto to drop off two sorts of orlon floss (both sold to commonfolk, most of whom know how to do clothwork on looms): spools of cord (for hooks to hook), spools of woof (for combs to comb). Folks who work on looms knot knots to form cloth goods for showrooms to show: cotton shorts or cotton smocks – lots of togs for fops who go from shop to shop to look for thong gowns, now worn to proms. Folks who don ponchos for comfort don boots or clogs to go for strolls on downtown docks.
Brown logbooks show how scows from Norfolk go from port to port to stow on docks tons of hotchpotch goods: tools from workrooms, props from workshops (cogs for motors, rods for rotors) – box on box of foolproof clocks, row on row of clockwork robots. Scows from Toronto tow lots of logs thrown onto pontoons: tons of softwood, tons of cordwood – block on block of wood good for woodwork: boxwood, bowwood, dogwood, logwood (most sorts of wood sold to workfolks who work for old wood-shops). Holds hold loot from Hong Kong or gold from Fort Knox. Old stockrooms stock lots of shopworn dross: doorknobs for doors, lockworks for locks.
Dhows from Colombo confront monsoons – strong storms known to slosh spoom onto prows of sloops. Folks who row old scows to cross floods of froth do not row scows worn down from wood rot (for most dolts who do so go forth, shorn of control, to rock, to roll, on storm-blown bobs of cork – now blown to or fro, now blown on or off, most known plots to known ports): whoosh, whoosh. Moms who sob for lost sons blow conch horns to honor poor fools who, thrown from port bows, go down, down, down (oh no) to drown – lost for good, now food for worms. Pods of octopods swoop down onto schools of cod to look for food: swoosh, swoosh.
Cold stormfronts from snowstorms blow snow onto fjords north of Oslo. Most storms howl for months: frost snows onto woods; froth blows onto rocks. From now on, snowplows plow snow. Cool brooks flow from grottos, down oxbows, to form pools or ponds. Long fronds of moonwort, known to grow from offshoot growths of rootstock, grow on moss bogs of sod. Soft blossoms of snowdrop now bloom on moors. Soon fog, not smog, rolls off old lochs onto boondocks of phlox. Lots of frogs hop from rock to rock: ‘frog, pond, plop’. Cows moo-moo to foghorns. Dogs bow-wow to moonglow. Most loons coo soft coos: coo, coo. Hoot owls hoot: hoo, hoo.
Brown storks flock to brooks to look for schools of smolt or schools of snook. Wolf dogs (los lobos) prowl woods or moors to look for spoor of wood-fowl or moorfowl. Most sorts of fox go off to snoop for coops known to hold woodcocks or moorcocks. Zoos known to stock zoomorphs (crocs or komodos, coons or bonobos) show off odd fowl: condors, hoopoos, flocks of owls or loons (not flocks of rocs or dodos). Most sloths, too slow to scoot from log to log, loll on mossgrown knolls of cottonwood to chomp on bollworms. Most worms molt from soft pods of cocoons to form broods of moths (two sorts: wood moth or moon moth): shoo, moth, shoo.
Scots from hogtowns or cowtowns work from cockcrow to moondown – to chop down woodlots, to plow down cornrows. Folks who work from morn to noon throw down slop to hogs or corn to sows. Most workfolk who sow crops of broomcorn grow corn crops sown from lots of cowflop compost (blobs of poo or globs of goo). From two o’clock on, workfolk groom colts born of broncos. Most cowfolk who hold onto cowprods to prod two sorts of ox (shorthorn or pronghorn) flog no shod ox sold to tow oxplows. Most honchos who own lots of longhorns on hoof shoot cows known to host cowpox. Dogs growl. Hogs snort. Most rooks or crows roost on rooftops.
Crooks who con folks go door to door to show folks lots of books on how to boost longshot growth of hot-shot stocks or low-cost bonds. Crooks who do so fob off fool’s gold onto fools. Crowds of droogs, who don workboots to stomp on downtrod hobos, go on to rob old folks, most of whom own posh co-op condos. Goons who shoot folks knock down doors, storm control rooms. Bronx cops do crowd control. Corps of shock-troops cordon off two blocks of shops to look for kooks who concoct knock-off bombs. Corps of storm-troops confront mobs of lowborn hoods, most of whom lob Molotov bombs to bomb pollbooths or tollbooths: pow, pow – boom.
Crowds of Ostrogoths who howl for blood go off on foot – to storm forts, to torch towns. Mongol troops, grown strong from bloodsport, loot strongholds of lords known to own tons of gold. Goths who lop off locks on doors of tombs spot no strongbox of loot – no gold, no boon – for Goths confront horrors too gross for words: gorgons from Mordor, kobolds from Chthon. Bold sons of Thor, god of storms, hold off, sword for sword, mobs of Morlocks – trolls who flood forth from bottommost worlds of rockbottom gloom. Orcs shoot bolts from crossbows. Lots of potshots, shot off from bows, mow down throngs of cohorts, most of whom swoon from loss of blood.
Goths who rob tombs confront old ghosts (most of whom prowl from ghost town to ghost town to spook poltroons). Lots of ghosts, who brood, forlorn, on moods of loss, howl for long-lost consorts – blond frows, sworn to honor fond vows of forsworn troth (now long forgot). Most consorts, too forlorn to long for comfort from sorrow, sob: boohoo, boohoo – so bozo clowns, who know not how to frown, don coxcombs, for pomp, for show, to spoof droll plots from books. Most fools who josh lords or mock snobs don hoods or cowls to do so (for wroth lords who scowl oft long to shoot folks who honor no form of snob-dom). Most fools go: ‘oops, ow – oh, bollocks: ho, ho’.
Troop doctors who stop blood loss from torn colons or shot torsos go to Kosovo to work pro bono for poor commonfolk, most of whom confront horrors born of long pogroms. Good doctors who go to post-op to comfort folks look for sponsors to sponsor downtrod POWs from Lvov or Brno. Good doctors do months of work on blood flow to show how no form of pox (no protozoon, no sporozoon) clots blood from blood donors. Most Dogon, voodoo doctors, who splosh oxblood onto voodoo dolls, know how to concoct good mojo for octoroons from Togo. Folk doctors cook pots of bromo from roots of bloodwort or toothwort – common worts for common colds.
Profs who work for Komsomol go to Novgorod to work on robot bombs: H-bombs or N-bombs (two sorts of bloodshot horror for worlds of tomorrow). Most profs who know how to work control knobs on chronotrons shoot protons from cosmotrons to clock how long two photons glow. Orbs of phosphor throw off bolts of hot volts (googols of bosons from photoprotons of thoron). Lots of robots mold strong forms of boron for hot-rod motors (most sold to Ford, not to Volvo): zoom, zoom – vroom. Poof! Dots of color, blown off from blowtorch torchglow, scorch lots of moths (for moths oft bob from torch to torch). Most glowworms glow.
Profs who go to Knossos to look for books on Phobos or Kronos go on to jot down monophthongs (kof or rho) from two monoglot scrolls on Thoth, old god of Copts – both scrolls torn from horn books, now grown brown from mold. Profs who gloss works of Woolf, Gogol, Frost or Corot look for books from Knopf: Oroonoko or Nostromo – not Hopscotch (nor Tlooth). Profs who do schoolwork on Pollock look for photo-books on Orozco or Rothko (two tomfools who throw bold colors, blotch on blotch, onto tondos of drop-cloth). Log onto Hotbot dotcom to look for books on who’s who or wot’s wot (for books of bons mots show folks lots of mottos to follow). How now brown cow.