ayaladn

foot up on

the floor,

that would-be-

feeling of

flustration,

& the bough

a pendulum;

I’d scream but

my tongue is

quit of its

eternity —

how is it

on the beach

at Cradle Rock

I’ve only eggs

to pick up

’round the clock

fidgetin’, what’s this (?)

four-poster on the floor,

unassembled, yet

wrenches & ratchets,

scissors (the measure),

one big smile —

that’s for youth,

philips  screw driver

I ran to

a garrett-

eer, if he

had AC,

I would

take it,

freely —

‘Watch your

back,’ he

said, ‘&

your step’,

but we

pushed it

thru the

window

hot, all about

the cedars,

good I have

my fan

rubberband-

ed ’round

my spine-

less book,

& a ‘brella

just in case

pigs fly —

they usually

do, & wonder

why, cannot

he see thru it

I’m only

painting

sky today,

blue lakes

tomorrow

maybe shore,

which to

use of

ultima

& truly —

I must

go out,

I’m running

out of green