pop

This space needs to
come back up
this space needs to
be open to me
and to
my mind

to the thoughts of my mind

*

superstition is/is not
in the equation
of this Anthrocene age

?

ponder your infinities

*

you mouth
anything up and
it drains all away
it blows all away
you mouth up the rain
then the fishing
goes grey
still, my guitar hand
is strong today
and come what may
I hope stronger
tomorrow and tomorrow
and tomorrow
now is the summer
of our main intent
tone. is all in
the fingers, in
the hands
in the lines
and in
the strings
oh, good job.
I will say more

tomorrow

but remember
mouth anything up
and it all
goes
away

I'm a lay down for the train
go up like propane
like cocaine
like inverse
kleptomaniac
lint garden
in my obverse
hybrid
dessicated
sauerkraut
proboscis

I'm running a theft ring
out the back door of the Salvation Army

he screamed
into the ruins
of his coffee
cup

shattered there on the floor

shipped out
to the containment and relocation center
to be
shaved
tagged
frozen
packaged
and launched into oblivion

see what your comet hath wrought

*

I am devoting the rest of this blog to crazy
like back in the good ole days

why the fuck not

I think you will like it
better

embrace your blues
when they are
all you've got

you disappear into it and it transforms you

*

resist being waylaid by behavioral incongruities

*

all them mistakes you made make for a lotta blues

I am an expert in making myself feel bad

must do better must do more must