karl rockwell
by day his name is andrew lundwall, by night he goes by karl
rockwell among other things...karl rockwell enjoys tennis, scuba-diving,
and reciting the poems of lord byron to street-lamps.. he's single,
he likes to line-dance with polar bears.
karl rockwell is a shape-shifter. andrew lundwall's chapbook
appears elsewhere on this site.
My Lover, My Bird
my twin in midnight wanderings alone without the
scents pure enough to extinguish burning desire in a
parade to the sensual indigo castle i believe i must
leave boat soon enough to catch my hair and my age
leaning over the siderail and i look through this
porthole and each wave has a different name like sexus
or london fog or apollo and i dont know which way you
expect me to bend and unfortunately i feel like a
grape vine in the valley of cassanovas i dont quite
understand and barely awake i probably never will
Glass Cupie Doll
following down the further track blushing love and
winking an automatic eye like a bunch of parakeets in
sight and i blur with the best of em make wine from
three muskytears bars and candy colore nothingness
down at the fair ten times spent a bunch of money and
monets on a collage and cotton kandy i dont know where
she left me but i am sure it was into the groove and
all good but unfortunately i am frowning and to do
nothing but waste a summer at the fair seems unusual
but i did and i feel like freud with a multicoloured
hat but it cant be true so i amble elsewhere and it
becomes really a ridiculous and totally insane affair
anyway unough about mee
A Thief
you thief you stole my money and went into paris with
a thong and i doubt everything inside this collapsible
stretch of road we call home decked out with white
smiling teeth of picket fences and everything seems
perfect but like elvis presley i know it was all a lie
it was obvious by the way you hung your hair from the
eaves trough like a horse to send a smoke signal and
all night long all i did was spend my francs and tooth
cavities running relays i find i am a new man and all
the pigs are howling for mama on particle street and
all night we laughed and although i can sense your
honesty your always going to be a thief to me
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