celery boy my man
change planes
in Chicago but don’t lose control freckle boy
cause when they get the power they
will excel
I’ll get outta here
lacerate
ulcerate you-self mr. fuji film
guardian of the cigar
watching me through the bars
he’s got this blade it’s 3.5 inches wide big boy
bide my wide so bloody
intense
and then the after ride
sharpening my alibi, stuffed into leather saddle bags smelling
like old horse
and the wind comes down, smelling like old horse toowhining and crying about being
dead like it’s doomsday
and there ‘this hole this whole thing
lying there
not even bleeding; wrap it up.
well yeah I’m pretty happy with my trombones and paper clips
well yeah and
yes sir whet and tuff and stuff enough like that
gives a girl gristle something you can really debone
I had imprimatur once. Oh I miss those days. those dancing ducks
on grub street
pin that pin-up girl to the wall
a pretty face will take you too far every time
just never far enough
I am longing
for you butcher boy upright and smoking
bone in all muscle and chops
I like a little sinew, I got teeth
you better wait for me