Trade routes spider-web past this old house
steel to you
hope to me
Everybody’s got a moustache in the wasteland
The old man built a fence to keep his old woman out
of the tomatoes.
The wife sharpened her knife and left the house
to buy some salt.
Upstairs the children were agony and excitement
Scarlett hit the skin so hard breaking my sharona.
Pin-prick puddle room redundancy
in the murky blue yonder
I hatched a heron who fell in love
“what a pretty little catch”
Well, he pretty little caught her
with honeydew words one dark dawn
and down out of the nest
. she spilled
. into dissonance.
Heron got real hip and spent his winters crooning
He sold his soul every summer to floating
Four years ago Hipster Heron overdosed on bebop
At his funeral, I am still laughing.