The Crow and the Wren

When the Crow and the Wren got together again,
The Crow sobbed to the Wren, "I've got to go!"
Cried the Wren, "No! No!
"Not again, I'll sing you a song."
So the Crow flew to the sun, while the Wren, flew along.

Git yur A-P-O-C-A-L-Y-P-S-E

Git your A-P-O-C-A-L-Y-P-S-E

Git your A-P-O-C-A-L-Y-P-S-E

Yeah? How much?

Well the first one's gonna cost ya,  . .
. . . but after that they're free!

If Silhouette . . .

If a silhouette captures a mad thought somehow,
     forget I said it.
Come, you and I . . .
forget how a baby's green harmony,
     under denial, follows every laugh.

Throw positive water in her waiting delight.
Why is the girl like that?
     We tried to impress her.
They were too bold with pressure,
Yes, down around here, one bitter glorious night,
     Grace absconded with her husband.

Look, orphan, my opaque soft instrument,
     threw me here.
So grace me.
Walk to perform, and though dry,
     I'm through my every fateful base.

My wife who thinks, totally meant Friday.
She's so arid.
"I have form, obdurate metaphor."

Do see it all, never use pride.
City's hell, who could have resented.
Brother we presented our time outs,
     as awesome wild pain.
Call for attachment at the mouth,
     to handle a reversal.
Character is time which appears:
     'When did you want your psychedelic review?'

His death had been lame,
A bad song over, it all came.
     Started to investigate.
Must peace, so young, paint dirty?
Until then, no aggressive passion could love
     A curious turgid festoon.
It doesn't sculpt, but carved space.


May 26, 2006, with Ona V, 35, 36, 37

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All of Us

Some are hot from a stove,

Or specks of sand on a beach

Others rocks in a cove,

Mumbling seawater speech.

Some take mass in a bowl,

Food from a hungry plate.

Others are hot and angry,

Waiting for a check from the state.

Some write lead from a pencil,

Bright as an perpetual flame,

Others are ink from a pen,

Blacker than lines in your name.

A bit of mud from a puddle,

Drips from the soul of my shoes,

Some are cops in a fuddle,

Who skipped on their union dues.

Me I'm a berg from a glacier,

Birthed with a terrible boom,

All but drops in a river,

Who fall towards eventual doom.