Pastures of Onyx
The smell of the the highschool
in the back yard is sundown
always and later a precinct
house of yellow brick and late yelling
I will take up your case in the office
said the superimposant street taylor
stubber of nicotine feet and revenant
saw the exact tree he was born near
sponge of the imagination mercuric bum steer
stopping things the world's rotation
numb until the vehicle docks you think
the fucking world is a firm world?
only partial in my only system
afraid of spoiling the sweet walnuts
the slips made out of breadcrumbs
that book shack on Portrero Hill
those words that come with the tongue
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