Bike (1)

Edison, I’ve fixed my glasses like new!
(Wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well)
Edison, I’ve fixed my glasses like new!
(Wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well)
Reaching to quiet the man made of metal and brick
(Sleeping in woman’s clothes, naked walls filling my eyes)
Kneading the knotted, cramped muscles; the head of a nut
(Holding my place in a necklace collection, voila!)
Scraping the hardened, dead mortar from under my nails
(Weeding out sounding like movies, why I’d rather read)
Sparring the volunteer flower, the beautiful guest
(Greetings, my God given name is Adam in love)
Edison, I’ve fixed my glasses like new!
(Wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well)
Edison, I’ve fixed my glasses like new!
(Wishing coins well, off into the bad sleep well)
De (Ja) Vu, (Cats), clipped, (whis)kers
Open empty
You bring tears to my ever-dry eyes
Just because I’ve got poet head and write all the time
Doesn’t mean it’s all valor and vagina
What do you call a three-legged dog? Lucky
I’ve been an ex-president since the day I was born
I caught you looking like a barbed-wire fire escape
I am fresh dirt, grab your hoe and rake and shake the Earth
It was our idea first to put dead whales on the roadside
And turns our friends and family into cold hard cash
Physics of a bicycle, isn’t it remarkable?
I don’t know what it was
It was like, it was like why’s that sing so high
(You guys, uh, you play musical instruments?)
Physics of a bicycle, isn’t it remarkable
I’m gonna die of malnutrition
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here’s where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here’s where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The fat man’s drenched hat crumpled in a shivering fist
He’s lost the whole house from around him
Every single shingle shattered into atoms
Only he remains, standing circumcised on torn earth
Where his living room once was stripped to his skin
With a wet hate in his right hand
Umbrella inverted and undressed
Stuffed in the top of a trash can
«Right as rain» spokes reach
Grabbing coats and poking pocket books
It’s dress is torn to one last spoke
It pours a sliding sheet of rain over the side, over the side
The cracked earth cow-skull dirt in a no-cloud blue sky capsule
Leaks out the ozone’s bald spot along with your brand new closed curtains
A dozen frozen roses and Cozmo, the thumbed cat
Two women walk up to a penny
One says, «oh look a penny.»
Then the other one says, «oh, it’s a lucky one.»
Then the one goes, «no it isn’t.»
And they both walk off
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here’s where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
Here’s where the flies come in
This is where the flies come in
The dead dog, on the shoulder of 71
It’s not pixelated
It’s dead, it’s dead