on the playground dark and wet…murky and grassy.fill with blood sucking flying insects…
wet lips and 2 pairs of shorts … a waiting minute for instituition created a moment of life’s moments on the old lady’s head on a plack on cotton and spring on wood and bricks above the ceiling creak… 15 mins of up n down, inside and out, left n right and around the red n skinned coloured dim n subtle just before 12 just before january and just before the fainting red thing comes, bare and half undone yet not so to what a child would see but rather an act of one in many solomon’s books.
on the curly wires over grey, neon n heat, on the stairs on over the glass thing over water dripping n countless rattle battle . over the abstract non concrete and over the lights with and without being slow and perhaps to no one who knows and across pages of white over a black cover just written to non-existing , the air, perhaps in many many letters, yet the same words. they call me the yule, the cool yule, one smile to many within a million frowns to few. the days of wines n roses grow your own when i fall in love and on the third day cherokee turn out the stars in a sentimental mood for heavens sake i got it bad like someone in love beautiful love beneath it all of me played twice sometime ago it don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing in your own sweet way i should care how insensitive if you never come to me. black n brown with a swerve and a curve and above a hole on many holes with many holes in metal circles and squares in different tears and corn and taste perhaps smell but no sight just like ….my bass with new strings