Puh-leeaze

  Pre-date me in the errant notion

       Of time and glacial movement

   Mt. Lyell and 

  The foghorns of right now

    The ice melts

     The fog is here 

   Today the ships are coming in

 Great seabaring ships of night and day

    We lubbers of land

   Whisper our notions

   Of hatred and guile

    Those that do

Those that are

   Those they

We walk the dryline 

   And whisper the hatred

And then forget

   And walk on

Into showers

   And towels 

 And drink

 Some moochy moochy

 Moochy pie

  Dia De Los Muertos

   Honoring the night

  Saving the past

 For tomorrow 

  Bones and shadows

    Stark revolution

  Of nay nothing

   In the grounds

  The sticks and stones

   Skulls and bones

    Wanton gestures

     Of smiles and guile's

The bones stones

   We feast on pies 

   And fruit and drink

 And sink into

 Tomorrow's today

And say hey 

  There it is 

There it was

  There are we

 Who live 

  And die

  And live again 

In red fruit

  And orange fruit

And yellow drinks

 The forest circle

    Elves or ?

   Found a felt hat

 The blue craziness

    Is 

  A leaf falling

    I sat by the street 

And waited for you

   But you didn't come.

 Waah!

 Caught the river in my eyes 

   I cried for years

 I thought I had a

   Something

   But it was nothing

 Driving is easy

   If the sun doesn't shine

      Your eyes

 Couldn't catch

 The rain

     So made a broken flower

 Kum by Yah

   My lo

     Yah

 Yah

  Biscuit

Koom Bye

    

 Book of Blues

210. 

  #5

   Quetzalcoatl 

Serpent 

Mind

   See the socks

   On the line

      With peyote

Lime 

 Is it in a chair?

   Where?

    The dirt is on your hands

The wash is

   Hanging

 In black streets

    Your shoes are new

   And the knife in your pocket

     Is smiling

   At the blood suggestion 

    Of your pulse heart

       See simple

   The street is quiet

   No casual inheritance bothers

You

 Stridant morbidity is an effortless flour cake

    Baked in the minds oven

     Haha we are the bakers dozen

   Thirteen is the half wit 

    Numerology praxis 

   Play w fire

    The coals are red hot 

     White with blood heat

        Salted with the ways of ancestors 

      In old clothes 

In old closets

    Smelling musty

And dusty

 Shit sticks

  Everything is fucked

 We are all bread pan 

    In the pudding pie

 Blasé interruptions

   Scaled the mighty fortress walls

     Of certainty

Some were eyes averted

   Some were bionically alerted

   But the penguin man

    Was dressed for icy water

       And a sumptuous meal of kraken

     W eel backers

  The check arrived but 

Penguin man had left for the coast

  In his 77 Porsche 

 With psychedelic tires

And trim

 The Moon's Catharsis

 

    Sprayed and played 

In centrifugal time

   A basket of nobody

   Eating your eyes

  Down by the Waukahatchee spires

     You laid the covers 

On a red River

   And fetched a bag of potato chips 

From the sandwich stories you always told

  Ah dear have I broken your wall

   Silicon life forms abound

    But  no we know not of them

  But they talk about us regularly

"Did you see what he was wearing?!"

  They operate on a higher plane

Unfortunately 

Would be good to get to know them

    

 Sunk in the Glom

Of Pom Pom Pom

   Igniting vast arrays of 

Coniferous viables 

   Staunched and stammered

Pleaded and hammered

   Abregnation in tact

  His last act would be the foot plant

   Of soul- he was not one to 

  Caress the evil that is done

     No not fun not fun

  This plastic world was greater than that

    Elasticity was a spastic past caring

  Funneled and tunneled

   Thru the gray sky future

 Ersatz and Ignatz 

Intactually mordant

  He plied a virulent beverage

To the max

 And sat and sighed

  Oh how high are we?!

Nay  let's not

  But the clock is set

 The past consumes

The sprightly beagles 

Have set forth

 But the fox is driving this car

   A 2013 Hyundai 

     Across Missoula

   Eyes wide for a Taco Bell

 The febrile Moon

    Was his cousin

   On his fathers side

 It's pleasant round face shined fully but once a month

    It turned and 

 Cheese spilled from its lips 

Like any old cousin 

 Who knew

 The laughter of the family 

    The tv was color 

  We succumbed to the table 

  Of pine tar and knotty Doug fir

 I drink 

And become 

   The apple of my eye 

But cored 

   With cheese 

 And a nice red wine

    The knife too sharp 

To pierce God's heart

   It slides and finds no purchase

I sigh again

 On the marble steps of the Vatican stairs

  Dressed in Ralph Lauren

 My watch is priceless

    A handcuff to my soul

      Dithering in the wake of Gloom

   The fog upon the moor

   "The Hulks"

 Boy bring me victuals 

And a file 

   On the morrow 

And tell no one 

Or the lad will find you

   Now GO!

Hah!

 

    

 I won at both games;

   The Day and the Night

   I won and and took my trophies home

  To bed

    To sleep alone with barbs for covers

       To sleep with dreams of silent tearing papers

     To sift thru days 

  With my magick gone

    I Won!

 Sail the frosty

    Salt 

  To climb

     A stroll 

A scent

     Sail away

   On today's thought

    Of sunshine

 And cold air

    Sell your soul 

 To the April winds in October

Jasper Rose at UCSC