Fuck me, afternoon choir!
Get out and get at it.
Wait…yes, an
Easternwind.
Just clout on.
Naked:
To the truth exposed!
Catch your death
Outside in that.
Stay in, smoke tabs,
keep warm and safe
from the Garden
Midnights.
Silence breeds lunchtime.
Tell tale signs:
Blue teeth,
Buboes,
Trombones
fetid Mind-Wort
Hyacynthia…
Up in Maine,
we bathe in Clover,
not Butter.
Radio Gone,
auto cut-off.
In the Smoke:
Big Matisse
Jazz Gig.
Scissor Sisters
to preside?
Sounds on the Staircase.
Voices without faces.
Cup in the Galley.
Prospect of Coffee
and Perfidy.