the Allen Bradley Tower clock looks at me like an all knowing ey… it tells me “you are home you were not born here
some nights I talk to them because i have no pets and i am alone i make promises “tomorrow we will go for a walk”
i thought that god was playing hide and go seek with me but it was just
this shirt screams “i’m not still fucked up from last…
with a heart that aches to say the… let them sled over my lips know the peace of their meaning it’s been a long time since i last… i miss saying them
put a million miles between me and… shoes worn away from the journey i will arrive with toes calloused feet stained in earth and legs swollen
when governments fall the power goes out and civilization is in the shamble… of its own undoing Uncle Dan has plenty of survival…
coiled in a moment of wonder to ponder the venom of his existen… remembering every instance that he prepared himself to strike with no recollection of hatching
monuments of song returned to life in my hands records from dead men
sparks fly when you put a couple forks in the microwave too
if the fairy spreads her thighs for the goblins finger the happy ending never comes even if she does
i watch her lips purse around the top end of a cock… sucking up the last drops of a Can… setting the glass arm’s length awa… she lets the bartender see we need…
the Buk used to write about the va… hanging around the downtown Los A… looking around the library here on 8th & Rio Grande i think
there once was a drop of water misplaced in the ocean that was meant for something more never belonging with other drops lost at sea
on a night back in 1998 at the 24 hour Happy Chef diner in Fort Dodge, Iowa when both of us were drunk and stoned
