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Vegetable Heads

One can see the cubed orange lights on the street
Each with an ambulatory head with dressings
Which leak from the solemnity of their stabbed tongues
Each bearing a communion wafer
Each bored by their jester caps
And the only times their mouths open
Is when you’ve gotten sleepy
and their bells ring

Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
Editing stage: 


I poked and prodded at this from several unseemly angles,
sniffed it,
trod in it,
tasted it,
even thought about it
and I came away slightly tainted and bemused.

That was your intent all along, wasn't it, you bastard.

Neopoet Directors

This one didn't work out too well.

I STILL like it!

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