78 pockets
and not enough
to go around. seventy-eight.

the ashtray
overflows with
our pictures. seventy eight.

i weed out
the rest of
the periscope. seventy eight.

next in line
is the salt
shaker catcher. the letter c.

a.hold on to the door
a1.that opens our pores
a2.that lets out our sores

I hear the playing of a bass clarinette
It reminds me to seek the girl i ain't met
she speaks softly and has the bluest eyes
she's looking for me and not the other guys.

my socks
reveal my
severed smile. smile.

kangaroos dance
in the site
of a mall. smile.

honorably the
focus is on
the tired man smile.

visual contact
with sunspots
turn my eyes weep.

b.never understand
b1.the rusted land
b2.deserts of sand

In the land i have yet go to
is my one and only the fair and true.
she calls, even while i'm in this concert hall.
and i wonder if she's real at all..........


real
at all
so
absolute
all underlined
our dharma
our reason
this
this everything
this
this
this.....this......
ta..ta..tathis....ta..his. verty-this-hing
this hing hing
ta...his hing. ever..this..
reason
rewwwwwaaaaawwl real eel ta...his

"Talk Burundi can you understand me now man"


and up next we got a tune by a little known band called no... NO! you are wrong! this is my radio show!!! "Robert on line two we have a caller from Paducah, his name is Saidan and he say's he's pissed"


Oh! the lily's in the field
The petals that watch us grow

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