Mc Paul Barman Vulture Shark Sculpture Park
Are you feeling zip-zip? Are you ready for
partying? I need your field
trip slip signed by a parent
or guardian. But I
understand if they
don’t want to sign it
because most
people find Vulture Shark’s
Sculpture Park a little bit dangerous…
Culture, hark! There’s Bunny
Loafabread on a
Sofabed. Igloo
Turtle leaps a
big blue hurdle
overhead.
Lil
Orphan Dolphin gets endorphins
from golfing. She looks
lucky and reckless
thanks to
her Tumbleweed/
Bumblebead Necklace.
There’s
Hamstergram to
Amsterdam
with a robo-actional
hobo satchel perched on an
ampersand. Watch a newborn
gorilla dip a blue
corn tortilla chip. Don
Quixote with a Calder
‘stache rides Donkey
Odie. A sign says,
“Don’t Touch.”
Balderdash! As if the
oil in my hands is more destructive
than natural erosion from acid
rain lightning storms.
A bucolic setting. A whole house
made of bedding. It’s getting cold
out. Oh wow, a wedding.
The groom wore a costume, a very goth towel,
a terrycloth cowl.
He said, “I, Hairy Moth
Owl, take you to bite
awfully
headed
to ravish
and mould in quickness
and stealth till death
or we part. And you?”
The bride, a turtledove,
replied, “You may kiss the fertile
love inside my girdle/glove divide.”
Vulture Shark presided as host and proposed
a toast: “Make
your woman a momma,
damn it. Spread more seeds
on the planet than a pomegranate.”
He’d copped her a Lepidoptera
Helicopter, a
Dubuffet
table with
butter frogs and
mice, a chopped
liver goose, and
Lincoln Logs of ice.
I said, “Beg pardon. We brought the happy
a couple a Caterpillar Egg Carton.” We had
our fill of turkey sandwiches made from
traced hands on butcher
paper tablecloths with glasses
of crayons.
Marriage isn’t an individgin
decision. I ran over a bridge
and explored the park store
run by Rebecca
Pidgeon. She sells
tight terrific site specific
environments;
Vulture Shark Sculpture
Park as depicted by
Barman’s Garments.
