mama/ tho i make no attempt to disqualify the somber moody you. mama with the woeful shepherd on your shoulder. the twenty cent diamond on your finger. i play no more with my soul like a tinker toy/ i now have the eyes of a camel & sleep on a hook... to glorify your trials would be most easy but you are not the queen-the sound is queen/ you are the princess..... & i have been your honeyed ground. you have been my guest & i shall not smite you

"Are there any questions?" the instructor asks. a blond haired little boy in the first row raises his hands an asks"how far to medico? "are there any questions?" the poor optical muse known as uncle & carrying a chunk of wind & trees from the meadow & the kind of uncle that says "holy moly" in a mild whisper meeting the farmer who say "here. have some hunger for you." & lay some good fine work in his nauseous lap/ chamber of commerce tries to tell poor muse that Minnesota fats was from Kansas & not so fat, just notoriously heavy but they're putting up super-market across the meadow & that should take care of the farmer "does anybody wanna be anything out of the ordinary?" asks the instructor. the smartest kid in class, who comes to school drunk, raises his hand & says 'yes, sir. i'd like to be a dollar sir"

the dada weatherman comes out of the library after being beaten up by a bunch of hoods inside/ he opens up the mailbox, climbs in & goes to sleep/ the hoods come out/ tho they don't know it, they've been infiltrated by a bunch of religious fanatics..... the whole group looks around for some easy prey... & settle for some out of work movie usher, who is wearing a blanket & a pilot's cap/ it is one second to fourth of july & he does not fight back/ the dada weatherman gets mailed to Monaco. grace kelly has another kid & all the hoods turn into drunken business men who can tell me the name of the third president of the united states?" a girl with her back full of ink raises her hand & says "ernest tubb"

more blue pills father & gobble the little quaint pills/ these gushing swans, rituals & chickens in your sleep-they've been given the ok & the mad search warrant yes & you, the famous Viking, snatching the time bomb from Sophia's filter tip, down some jack daniels & get out there to meet James Cagney ...a swinging armadillo for your friend, your faithful mob & mona lisa behind you ...God ma, the swains are baking him & how i wish i could ease him & honor him with peace thru his veins. make him calm. almighty & slay the horrible hippopotamus of his nitemare...but i can take no martyr's name nor sleep myself in any gust of dungeon & am sick with cavity ... ludicrous, the dead angel, monopolizing my vocal cords, gatherin her parent sheep onward & homeward into obituary. she's hostile. she's ancient ...aretha-golden sweet/ whos nakedness is a piercing thing-she's like a vine/ your luck tongue shall not decay me

"is there anyone in class who can tell me the exact hour his or her father isn't home?" asks the instructor. everybody suddenly drops their pencils & runs out the door-all except of course the boy in the last row wearing glasses & who's carrying an apple

juicy roses to coughing hands assembling & pluck national anthems! all hail! the football field ablaze with doves & alleyways where hitchhikers wandering & setting fire to their pockets resounding with the nuns & tramps & discarding the weedy Syrian, surfs of half reason, the jack & jills & wax Michael from the church acre, who cry in their prime & gag of their twins ...empty ships on the desert & traffic cops on the broomstick & weeping & hanging onto a goofy sledgehammer & all the trombones coming apart, the xylophones cracking & flute players losing their intimates ... as the whole band groaning throwing away measures & heartbeats while it pays to know who your friends are but it also pays to know you aint got any friends ... like it pays to know what your friends aint got-it's friendlier to got what you pay for