Wednesday, February 17, 2016


Oops, I Ate the Blue Flesh!

The trumpeter visits.
You get to start over
is what it is.  Enough

of that for now.  Time
to pet a cat.  Time to
pick at the underneath.

At or inside mouth.  Be-
tween two teeth, silly!
Where we are is starting,

give or take a month. 
Forget the month and just
give or take.  Which is to

forget and which is forgive
is useless at this point.  It’s
all honkytonk, anyway. 

So we find a place at seven
on the seventh (wasn’t it on
7th Street?).  After which

all birthdays stunk, one
right after the other.  I
forget who climbed what

in order to ascertain that.
But I know I played the
get-up song at the funeral:

Reveille (in the morning).
Which pays enough for a
vocation at a rather large

National Park while an
excellent typist plays
tribute to Taps all night.