Tuesday, January 10, 2006

when i for get / my day / empty spots / heart /

& the dirty dog moves out side
for a breath of fresh air

we call it weed


& there are no words to write
no thing much to report

a life busy with / death


& the business of living

& i wonder why i get call ed up
in to / the business of death

i wonder / do deer just wonder aim less lee

as one walks heavy lee down the road
past / me

he's look ing for / diggings / some thing
to fill / a deer belly

& my dear belly feels sad / a bit empty

yes / once you die / the days will be
a bit empty / & i miss you all ready /
but i won't tell you that /


for now / i'm glad to wash your hands
& bring you cigarettes / & i wonder
about / death & poetry / why sad ness
brings on the words / /








yes / you are frail now / hard to eat
body / for gets / what to do


mind slips / for ward / in to /

what ever it is / we haven't really decided
yet / have we

/ / what / it / is / /


i name thee / death / /

& tho i walk thru the valley of
death / i shall fear / not


they say the earth is change ing now
time to pass it on / there will be other
hands / other points / in some other time

we won't worry about it right now tho
right now / it / is / out of our / hands


for now / we can / listen to the rain
talk about what's going on / tell dirty jokes
smoke weed / have a wee shot of scotch

we can do that st.ill / it's a journey to death
i can take it with you / right / to the end

i just can't / go thru to the other side with
you / that will have to wait for now / /

may be / some of you / will land / in side of me
a point of light / a spark perhaps / /






some things not finish ed /

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