deaf lion--

 

can't hear the musik

through the trees,

  

the oodles, noodles; the cock caw

of Mother Dark

 

sparking Tuesday into Wednesday.

               playwithplastik phone

dial(ogue)ing number to home.

 

  "yes",

  "yes"

  "yes"...hmmm,

 

deliver us from evil...no, sorry, pizza.

deliver us some pizza.

 

i have seen yesterday in the restive hands of

an old lady; we think she is meaningful; she is.

hurts my heart, you know, all that cheese, bacon,

tomato...mmm, i tipped the driver.

 

20 cents. my pocket, owwww, it screams

 

                                   [oh dee dab dee da, la]

s'pose that's what i get for being generic,

convers(ationally):

                  "yeah, dude".

hidey  hidey  ho.

                 shouldn't  shouldn't  go

down

on a

nun.

    goggle eyez'd get angry   spit out the spoon.

and,

    jimmy jones, bless his soul, us and them--

    but him, he's still looking for a razor for the

    forest on his face,

                       whispers, tinkles; musik.

    melody streaming from the buzz of flowers,

    bees circling the sun, river weeps on the piano's

    porch. i dream this dream through the everglades, the circles on the stump, the rings, the oak and eucalypt. i seem to think, but not. caught   in nature;

     4:4.

 

feel the knock on my door--

enters song, gaily strides in, shining a thousand faces...

and i am here, so deftly rapt. bent. And every breeze

is worth a kiss.