ldy wordsmiths poem

/bark bark bark

a poem for the Lady Wordsmith

there's a psychedelic vision
of an old crone divisioned
a muerta? not quite
a sunfish in flight
hooked and twisting and pulling in fight
not going gently into the night

#5 means i offer this photochoppy
a gift to da lady from the K9 rotty

the lady's listing of forty wishes
mostly i read that it's freedom she misses
marinated in thoughts of her corazon
i dogpaddled a sea of digital foam
and rode on the bubbles to her home
but when i arrived she were not alone

black and white flickering of film noir
darius and BoHemia at the bar
horsehead nebulas wearing belts of orion
somewhere behind me a bridge was sighing
for the lady say a crone is halfway to dying
well forget that grrrrl, sip up! we be flying


hear that long and lonesome whistle?
let's us write the bums epistle!
go lady go lady go lady go
i wish ya happy birthday happy birthday dontcha know?

/(soft) grrrrr

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