i followed the pigeons to Gordon park just to hear them coo their electric feathers alive in the sun
splendid bit of glee response of a mind tickled nothing like a laugh
i was born in a basket of apples out of place from the start always berated by questions like “where is your stem?” “why are you so round?”
for all the good of the day she sought the places where youths did play a few kind words to say a light to make her darkness grey
sound becomes idea phenomenon of music as to hear a soul
avoiding cocoons pride is the caterpillar that shuns butterflies
it was never my intention to clip… i was only trying to take a feathe… so that i would have something to… after you flew away
a best friend to kings faith substitutes for justice god will keep us poor
still he saws at the legs of his Steinway old habits only die hard so he tickles the ivory cigarette hanging from his lips
it was the hottest new spot on the east side of course and of course
that moment right after you’ve finished readin… when the mind gets to digest and what Jeffers referred to as “The honey of peace”
the crowd is divisive full of bickering ideologies and overstimulated thoughts of what makes us different we lose sight of the fact
i knew i should not have unwrapped… but my will is weak at the beckon… so i took off your dress and let y… a bursting fruit flavor supplement… made everything else go away
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
they’ve never looked as deeply as… into the centers of your alluring and final eyes they’ve never watched you dance slowly and dark like the end…
