REVISION

I GIVE A HEARTBEAT TO THE WEATHER


And, in return, it keeps me grounded, overlooking my smithereens. To be happy would require an Esmeralda under my umbrella. For this continuous being out of sorts there is nothing but Ocean Spray.

It wasn’t always like this. I had a tennis ball once. A greenness and a bounce. Everything was mythological. Dem Bums versus The Giants. In a broken down coliseum.

That’s why every mustard takes me back. Where the precip. ain’t schizophrenic. And the long range forecast is stalagmites. Show me what you can do with a paper clip.

We have but two choices here: Art or maggots. It all begins with cranberry juice. And the dreams disturb the sleep magnificently.

A clearance of throat, a glob of poetry.