I’ll treat you like a poem in progress
To show my appreciation
I’ll treat you like a receptical
For my unwanted artistic endeavors
I’ll show like an elephant
In a thimble
Prepare weeks for my trip
From Kitchen Street to Pantry Lane
Pre pay the reaper
For a window seat in purgatory
Cornish pasta
Scotch tape egg
Welsh Rare Butt
Chicken’s with their heads off
Parking cars .
What a beautiful day to feel stressed
What a beautiful day for sausage
What a beautiful day for Music
Posted in Uncategorized
Scars on my shower curtain
Scissors on my socks
Mustard on my mayonnaise
Tiny pieces of glass in every bite
All the little things I love
All the little names for the dog
Poopsy, Mr. Funny Word
I took the black horse road
I fell a sleep in th bakers arms
Pidgeons in the Pancras
Perfectly in step with love
The precision of feeding birds
The endless spray of cooing and cocking
Palm trees on th streets of London
The burning mowers of dreams
Their prickly skin howls
Like a million open mouths
The repetition is never repetitive
The hot needle enters smoother
But we share the air around us
Talk listen talk
Never breathe the same way twice
Posted in Uncategorized
Behind every man is a man
But not every man is behind each man
Behind every man is a man talking
About himself
To a man who is not listening
They make a lot of wind
Burn a lot of wood
Buy a lot of beer
They eat the meat right from the bone
And then they write the story
I keep wanting to compare the trees to hair
On the big brain planet
Keep wanting to compare
Things to other things
Things I think I know better.
A better way to understand
The things that I know less about.
Is it natural?
Does a deer see the tree in a building?
The blue lake is not really blue.
It is a kind of blue
The kind that fills a trumpet
The blue of missing new friends
For the first time.
The blue inside the fire
That cannot live far from
The source
But leaves a mark
That never leaves the air
Becomes new the new air
Click on Nan & Matt to learn more!
Schwervon! 