Wednesday, November 02, 2005

feet drug

feet drug



in my world surreal has three "r"s and stones still shift in the mountains but O joy nothing ever upsets the junkman's cart as it moves, light as falling birds.


clang clang summoned ashore clop clop by a rusty bell a cowbell a long line of cowbells strung on an old piece of twine, wind picking up pregnant with rain.


dream stones fearless of mixing in the rain in the wind the horse tore choruses refrains junk the only autumn i know.


old men plan walks sit to soup etc. and something not understood takes them over, trilling tunes sour from venus roads to voided walls.


three "r"s and all i miss you, i miss myself, i miss

when it was like a cartoon, something to sweeten the blend



~


11 2 05