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A response to Slam topic. |
the climb is capricious like children after a storm racing out to play who have scattered a sticky deck of cards across the porch the configuration of the mood's syncopation is jazzy and just like New Orleans blue baby blue you are surely a feathr weight a pretty woman prone to catching a cold playing the piano an upright Hobart M. Cable with chipped teeth and yellowing ivories you chord a diminished seven, reaching then giving it up to walk the dog the neighbors hide, remember a theatrical girl scout of eight she screams a cry unaided while that world of LONELY I'M SO LONELY I'M SO LONELY I'M SO LONELEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY is only Bobby Jameson from the closet to kill the dead to be grateful dead to sing about it overscents the gay flowers with Givenchy perfume This is taken to mean the end cold ash empty pockets finas the young girl wants to be understood to imply another chance to guess at what will come next opening a letter like a cracker jack box and asking for mercy with advice, to see whre who has been and what might be going down with the falling shimmering moonlight kiss to strangers A strange ghost screams, "Get on the bus lady! Hurry!" She thinks of Chin's garden with spirit and knows only the mightiness of the psalms, reads the Bible for inconsistencies. Measures numbers that Plato loved Aristotle for. A true poet loves to be warmed by the reflections of modern music. And leaves the old to the new, thinking the odd line to clear vision. |