All these years since I’ve known you and yet three days after we last spoke I have trouble remembering My name.
And like I said—
there is no need for a remedy
if you cure me of the desire
to spell “dig”
I said—
There’s a soft chase
near the turnpike
Where my old car
Where I hid my hat
in the wheelbin
Put a thick foot
on the stone.
We are off the workload This good day (Heave!) Twelve trowels of loam (Pull!)
begs the question
What desert
begs the question
What medicine burns
brightest the pyre?
(I’m a fighter!) On the white rocks/through the church town/ Head towards the river/ to reign it in. Tin can, good buddy Two coins in a bucket Our tears hit a hot pan
This wind sounds like—
Did you leave your shoes behind?
Walking out the door.
