Monday, February 8, 2016

knead to know

all that showed was the fight
its innocent heels and well marked treads
the sleezes looked down as the balls took over
just when the elbows got in the way
all the way to the toes and its well marked square
sharpened here and there with a justice scream
there was nothing in those days
just some dynamite for kixs
a stick to get you high
a blow to get you low
no vapor no wine
the copper came behind
some soul some lesion some doom
the cats were empty there was nothing to do
you could scramble but why
why hook the horses blind
there was nothing to do but nurse the matter
give it gravity and tell no one
but even that is too much
and the restaurants have litter to do
just a washer of habadashery
a gift of wine and a fruit basket
it was way too hard and had to be softened
but the corollary is off and had nothing to do
just some shelter and a parking space dressed as fruit
a dumping ground in the mind
laughter in the cupboard
made the bard sound better
unknown and wise
just a copy or two silenced them both
two characters without names or even an introduction
makes talking scarce and biscuits last
still the moon rise
cupples with soup
and the washers with dry

denis streeter    2/8/16

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