Wicked was the lobsters
His shell like jellyfish's slime
Man with eagles wings and fox heads
Wolf eyed children with clocks in there brain
Am i not real like a leaf fallin from the tree
Popular pollen jaming the thoughts in the cortex
Willing to make peace winth soft sponge stones
Lone blood of infant on lithium like I
Why cry for good loses
Loses are more precious than victory
Pride is more expensive than clown like poverty
And we see like a clild falcon sniffing the sent of the worm our mother brought

It has been
a long time
  since I worked.
I don't miss
doing the work
  or waking up at 4 AM,
But I do
miss the taste
  of a well earned beer.

Mothers come gently to our rooms, the sunset kiss on the forehead,
Woven homilies from their baskets of forgiveness and spools of yarn.

But for the grave, this heart its coiled sunset unspools, so long entwined
In woods and seas that redden now into the soul of all sunsets combined.