what little garamble
of smirtin accors this
off the page miramble
sossin and ossinn rought
ime an lessin aim aim so

does a woman not know
how she looks
when she smiles
and I don't know
my name

Sluiced with her smile
I fell down in denial

I can win
in my own mind
or out there
oh that's too hard

That's enough
of a lot of things
grapes for one
not sour just ****
digging those skins
out of my cavernous

Oh How I want to be studied
like some past lyrical strut
like some cabalistic nut
a florid but productive ****
parsed up the ****
scenting no farce
sorry its my sparse
sense of poetry
at play

I'm sipping wine
and memories it appears
with each administration
elicitations of other sips arise
and I am a ghost in a winery
with a girl I can't remember
it is the sip connecting time
this inclusion in me of red
and I really can remember