donate to ya boy

Saturday, June 25, 2011


...and start west.
Natural progression
my sensory memory obsession
living on the edge and this being my one regret
though never paying mind to it
contemplation on a warm pacific gold coast
third eye minded
levitation acheived by the soul
the cajolnes and head still cry home
my heart yearns for ohio
days bubble like couldrons overflowing
down rivers and past quarrys
manifestos bore me
its alarming how disconected I can appear to
"were not worthy"(ies)
collecting the collected to turn them from dollar signs to a collective
head cases pumped full of cheap congac
and lap bands
interconnected hate for the love of a single sect of species
we reach
only knowing we can die alone
I teach
knowing I say next to nothing in totes
Its humbleing,these days that strike like tidal waves
that churn stomachs into violent wakes
where corpses are reanimated and the patrons lay waste to the ordeurv tables
glass eyed
street car love poems

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