Wack A*s GPhonk Sabbath Day.

Horsefeathers.

drank straight

god above

level heaven

contagion.

remember:

lazy approves 

of room for error.

snoring counts

as blatantly losing.

blank stare

blank slate 

upstairs neighbors

they were making

what could only be

violent love or

beautiful music.

either way 

the whole blueprint was shaking,

the sound breaking 

a vacant space.

& there was a cloud.

there was 

always

a cloud.

sometimes he be spinnin

round & round & rounded

but he usually clucked out

fore ever touching ground.

uhh, shut his mouth.

not saying so long to luck

but the b***h wanted to run.

how he long to get loud

& lost in the crowd 

of tired brown-

grays & blacks,

boring blues.

nature,

mother,

lackluster,

satan

kept a written record 

of the whether's mood

& heavy surveillance of

his movements 

as seen through 

dirty rear view mirrors.

 she said 

never better,

never clearer.

so, tomorrow 

if we're still

our own & each other's

dearest,

we'll need to find the nearest payphone;

call all world leaders, demand appearance,

then apologize for all our static & interference.

Author's Note

No idea.

Reviews

[The Twin Arenas]

you're a good one. you ever write prose or anything? I'd be pretty down with it, I reckon. Tie all this detritus to a milk jug raft and float that s**t down the LA river.