Ha?

lonely as a dry and used orchard spread over the earth for use and surrender.

shot down like an ex-pug selling dailies on the corner.

taken by tears like an aging chorus girl who has gotten her last check.

a hanky is in order your lord your worship.

the blackbirds are rough today like ingrown toenails in an overnightjail---

wine wine whine,the blackbirds run around and fly around harping about

Spanish melodies and bones.
and everywhere is nowhere---the dream is as bad as flapjacks and flat tires:why do we go on with our minds and pockets full of dust like a bad boy just out ofschool---

you tellme,you who were a hero in some revolution you who teach children you who drink with calmness you who own large homes and walk in gardens you who have killed a man and own a beautiful wife you tell me why I am on fire like old dry garbage.

we might surely have some interesting correspondence.

it will keep the mailman busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and cemeteries the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics will still go on a while until we run out of stamps and/or ideas.

don't be a shamed of anything; I guess God meant it all like locks on doors.

-C.B.