Wednesday, April 16, 2008


Crows evolve with pigeon heads.

“The slicker the meat, the hotter the treat,” the billboard by the dock says.

A band called “The Spinning Gobos” sets up on the pier.

First sign of blue smoke means I am not here.

Buzz recalls dreams of dancing bears while disheveled in the corner.

Hallways are decorated to celebrate Little Jack Horner.

A minstrel show shows up late in 1923.

They’re met in the 70’s by a pissed-off Queen Bee.

The jalopy of Tallulah banks hard left and misses a cherry-red mountain range.

Kudos go out to all the baby-mamas next to Hobo Rex, who hands out chump change.

Urinal cakes drop from construction sites holes.

A man in a plaid hood buries all of his clothes.

Alleyways fill with witch hazel, the moon’s as black as tar.

But no on ever thought Gatty’d get this far.


We’re all doing time here.
We’ll fall doing nine here.
The weird ball ruins lives here.






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