Friday, July 5, 2013

Somehow This

Into the moon a bummer east of the Saab a humongous stork wept in a mood the moon east of me they hurt me in the summer I really could care I hurt somebody, mister please adore me when I looked the mood had turned you moan and linger like a hawk and the vines like a mother’s glass observatory I fondle their emotions like a peacock the pill of the flock pass despair over me you’re cold to my hand with a smile the tops of hating and I’m saying this compromise has no goats you’re cold to my hand