Ruminations on Rutabagas
A Flarf Poem Extraordinaire*
by Charlene Anderson

     On these beautiful summer evenings,
     A gentle stroll is a wonderful way
     To end the day.

We visited Tarot readers and had fun wandering around at night. 
Lucifer Baphomet officiated and Cylindrian Rutabaga provided the magic.
Unicorn poop was smeared on the Tarot cards
By a gypsy soothsayer in a voodoo trance.

     Someone was cutting the grass across the street.

I have no memory of what the Tarot cards meant.
I probably wasn’t paying attention.
But I think you may call a Swede a Rutabaga:
Turnips, mustard greens, rutabaga, Brussels sprouts.

     Leaves of Grass.

Divination deck : TAROT
Yellow turnip : RUTABAGA
Personal:  COMPUTERS.
Pecor’s Health Food Principle:  Never eat rutabaga on any day of the week.
Men die and worms eat them:

     A beautiful stretch of grass on a beautiful day.

From the privacy of your computer, read it in the privacy of your kindle:
Homosexual Tarot Readers and the Satanic Laundresses Who Love Them.

     Big lawn, single car garage, quiet neighborhood.
​
Beatnik rutabagas from beyond.
I'd love to go out with you
I’d love to go down and watch the buns rise
I’d love to, I’d love to
But I've got a Friends of Rutabaga meeting.

     Tomorrow The Green Grass album.

The computer scientist, who had listened to all of this said, “Yes, but where do you think the Chaos came from?”
​*“The term “Flarf” was coined by the poet Gary Sullivan, who also wrote and published the earliest Flarf poems....One of their central methods was...to mine the Internet with odd search terms and then distill the results into often hilarious and sometimes disturbing poems.” Wikipedia