***BIO*** Space-Cowboy Poet J. D. Nelson is currently exploring career opportunities in the
food service and unskilled manufacturing industries. Visit J. D.'s website for late-breaking developments:
2005 zygoteinmycoffee Ink.
Hemp is My Pepsi (KISS Museum)
by J. D. Nelson
All over your giant mall pretzel -- remember? At the
face-painting booth? That hippie wouldn't paint my
face like Gene Simmons', so I told her what I thought
about unicorns -- the sound of doors being planed,
electrically -- instead of potatoes?
Feathers-n-lightning loops, bowls full of sticky black
resin on my altar -- bring my back yard shoes -- no
Beatles on the lease -- puffed up for a scrap out
behind the portable classrooms and earth voids -- so
much for home-made graph paper!

I ate breakfast before the sacrament and when the
Catholic Kids found out, they were all like o-o-o! I'm
the great-great grandson of Mick Password & I have the
old buzzard's fashion sense. The Mexican laundromat
smells like peppermint.

Tattlers and old fakir graffiti, pool-hall gangsters
with Jimi Hendrix shoes -- I'm drinking Winkle window
cleaner and I haven't eaten anything in almost 24
hours -- the desert guitarist turned it down and
toggled it.

Dehydrated numbers and patterns of numbers and 6
planets from now, the solar ghost finds a new home --
no more coins in my pockets until things change --
turn and face the strain, uncharted Klimt, Christian
Youth Group.
Nov. 2005