Greed harvests the blood

On a simple day

Your shirt looks nice

Clean and pressed

Your shoes shine

  What's the agenda?

   What's for lunch?

    Who are we eating today?

 Plowed on the morrow 

Tis disdain of life's complacency 

don't be angry he said

It steals your time

But that's you he said as he fingered the tennis racquet 

One set or two?

 Grover ran the meat wagon. On Thursdays he had his day off and he would wash his clothes and do some shopping. He drove a 72 Bel Air that his father left him when he passed away from emphysema. His dad didn't smoke but Grover was a pack a day kind of guy. His girlfriend didn't really like it and she tried to get him to quit but no go-Grover stuck to the smokes. Grover had quit school when his dad died and started working to make money for his mom and little sister, Andra. He liked his job. He got up very early, loaded the truck and delivered meat to different markets in town. He was done by three o'clock and he'd take a nap or listen to a ball game on the radio. His girlfriend said he should try to get a GED and then go to night school. Grover thought about it some and wondered what he wanted to do. I like driving the meat truck- why would I change it? Lately the town had gone a little downhill and things weren't quite as safe as they had been. Grover didn't worry though- I got no cash. I guess they could steal the meat but it's kinda heavy and cold. So he didn't worry about it. 

 If you get a Waymo can you sit in the drivers seat?

Or the trunk.

 Green tea

on the mountain

    book in hand

  leather boots

      nowhere man

       following stacks 

 to reach

  Outward

      beyond the mountain

      rocks and dirt

      and Doug Fir

        burning 

          across the river

            Blah blah blah

     What's on another channel?

  Hand me the Doritos. 

  Yum

 the dream

of a booze free 

    skein with dire wolves

in tow

  climbing the rocks

    climbing the stairs

      fingers rubbed to the gnome

   casual embrace 

     of the Bumble

        welcome to the island

       the dungeon awaits

   

 

 The foreshadowed entropy

took him bit by bit

    the elevator took him to the 34th floor

     He took a Valium and rolled the dice

        Back it said 

           Back down to

Your every day life

 Where is the Marsh King?

Lost

in years gone by

All that's left is a crimson hat

Shoes made of the hide of swamp rats 

and a book from AA

 I borrowed

    and bent over

my plate glass thingy 

      stood 

    to a bark

See ya later!

 What is the resident questioning?

Turn off your mind

  Compelling work

Proactive 

BLT

  MOOTAR?

policies

  Blue state 

Plastic 

A bunch of states!

your policy

that valuation

On or Off?

sorry

 The Agenda

 

 Escribe me dandelion

    a zbigniew of times motion

the Cold War liveth 

in Mr. Ed's reruns

  escribe 

     escribe 

        Escribe 

   and how the fuck are you?

   Oh so sorry

  my French runneth over

  merde!

    time for espresso 

and a cherry cigar 

     Pine sap and me are kicking it

   In the lost forest

   of night

Say Your Words!

Oh dapper dan 

   Say your train signal sighs 

 Reunited with passion

Where is it though?

Stacks of 

    You know what

    Getting dusty

  What a mess!

   Ah screw it

  Oh 

    Keep that

 What was I thinking?

Put it next to those 

I'll deal with it later 

 Straight 

or not

           Nope

                        the stars are out there

          life goes on

            time is 

         a 20 mile borax mule

         grinning and thirsty

         in Death Valley

 Time is ticking

and there's nowhere 

To go to be except who knows

Make some grits and coffee

It's morning

 The green 

of your eyes

    Is gospel to the thirsty

       great cathedrals

      of beauty

        riding backseat dreams

           high on marijuana 

              and wondering 

                where the heck are we going?

 Some days

Aren't real

Made up

Ginsberg-ian 

Nabokov-ian 

I'm trying to quit smoking but I'm not doing so great

At least I've cut back!

Only problem is my sense of smell has improved

But let's concentrate on the positive

 I wish I had a yesterday

I could choose

I'm sure it's not like I remember

the sun would be different 

The asphalt would be new and fresh and smooth

Grass would be green

Not like today

The burning leaves in New England

Would mark your minutes

the colors of the jerseys had sublime meaning

Red and black

Red and white

Red and gray

 Eternal nothingness

is such a pain

In the ass

dream on fucker

reality is a sweet biscuit of car crashes

In a beautiful car

  While you're holding a bottle of orange juice

  Pretending it's whiskey 

   A mouse chewed through your brake lines

    and the cliff approaches  oooh