then can I sleep? perhaps.
one backward step
recycled gold for my elbows in a draw.
it has moved itself ten thousand times it seems,
but still it sews it\'s buttons on a crib.
but still the sea that cannot smile
that cannot walk the miles when wrapped in black.
it was Dylan in a dress when Cohen died!
I spied with but a single eye
blind and cursed as lovers
on a cross of buttered scones
in human form
barking like a rabid dog
pissing with the tadpoles in the stomach of a crow;
by no miracle or less panoramic views
I know nothing of your whereabouts
your triple X
your missing links to the smell. the ghastly smell!