ayaladn

so much for something

and you’ll probably want to

break up the good set

 

plus side that’s your cup

but I’ll need the blue saucers

for the bon bonsai

 

when I go ghost towns

via copter who at you

shall throw pottery

I’m guilty myself

but suppose you’ve not drunk

among better friends

 

that as past worth have

o’er the peace that work at hand

bitten so to please

 

the hungry riffraff

on the second hand a hook

and a proper fool

acumen you call

the center’s fascination

moor’d to censorship

 

no laughing matter

for the weather whet your thumb

near an aqueduct

 

and the photo sell

at a fountain you prefer

in Copenhagen

from ago I sat

with O risen Orion

bullets in my belt

 

my fond hound below

a foothill for his pillow

that until exile

 

to the Strangers West

where the morning tips a cup

and I learn to thirst

one foot from hunger

scratch tin box all night

north a saddlebag

 

where as is well done

at a spring in an expanse

it may bottom out

 

as the rain alert

without reason the dust falls

o’er a rime of salt