Monday, August 27, 2007


underneath this day, some thing's gone missed, but
my foot taps reggae, sand songs are come, confused
as they seem lost, drifted here to my special place
where i snuggle coffee brews, swirl a bit of mystic
mumbo jumbo for the fans

wait, they are expectant, looking as if i could compose
oracle pronouncements, life altering hymn tunes
snap my fingers for electrical fires, thunderous clamor
eager faces, oh-ing faces, rapturous vapid faces

but i'm slyer than they know, tapping a sleepy foot
slicing words from the adulated air, groping for the
combination that will make more fame, etch me high
in the fog crust from the bay, i'm wired for their boorish

hooked with annealed hooks, sharp dug in my skin
fitting me for some raw work, i'm running with the jackals
chasing glory with a mongrel pack, hooked for the rush

what will you do for my slurpy kisses, a bit of second-rate
passion, is there any thing you haven't lost, thrown away
into our compost affair

still hoping, drifted child, befuddled by the phantoms
that cross your path, asking you but never needing you
ever the disposable option

i may be forgetting you, again, as you blur, dissolve
and i'm drowsing, fearful you'll leave me faded, loopy
and careless

rather think i'll forget you


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