/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
#16
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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