I Couldn’t Hit It Sideways

who hears this hears not
song but a found worthless
hymn wordless
profound & demanding a love
w/ unrest

“when I was a painter”
at one time the road was yellowed
from dropsy trance
mangled chardonnay touch of pear
who hears this not hears hollow

tony don’t kill yourself
goofing on a poet
drowning the goodbye past
am’s clouds & training
in obsequiousness

commence & make commerce
the farmer’s market rained out found
each frond each reed makes
something out of worth show me
how to spell it, trace it, name it.