I draw circles because
I like them.
They are the hardest
Shape to draw
at the beginning,
a long time ago.
I steady my hands,
by making curves.
I like them.
I color them in
and know which can say,
that is right
and this wrong.
My favorite is green.
I draw green and
purple circles,
liking them in full circle
again.

There's no health benefits
to fasting: still.
Your body responds
in some paleo-way;
calcium leaks from bones
to balance lost ones
escaping during the ***.
Always this homeostasis
while peeing. A setpoint.

There are those who fast
because that is what's left
to them, a prisoner in cell,
on the street, sitting in cubicles
feeling rightness with the same
wrong skin as e's fellow mate.

E does the daily pet cheats
too, until e's tired of it all,
until e wishes that there WAS
a great fallen Leader
to blame, or a giant green Tank
to stand against rice's grain
while holding defiant plastic
shopping bags.

When even violence
has been taken away:
still. We believe in peaceful
God and fast, fast or set ourselves on fire
because the concrete doesn't burn.

What an odd duck.
Reading his mead is like
drowning in sweet
annoyance. His criticism,
self-westernizing
reference to Greek
heroes; I know but don't care
as much as my sister,
My look-a-like; Die Zwilinge.
Who am I to question the genius.
A genius of his craft,
but blind in sanity.
Who am I to question us,
Deaf to the genius
of our own Muse-ick.

It is just us three:
#, Brel and me.
Trois Faisans,
# 6 ft under self,
Master Brel sings
still of Les Bourgeois,
and me toolin around
still JoJo.

David meditates, sings and Cushes words like Yemini.

Yawn when I seek refuge,
and cover me your mouth from pride,
least lions tear apart my mercy,
each piece and part never delivered.

Yawn if I do,
doing with wrong hands
rewarding U in peace with my fist,
seeking a foe for no reason.
Yes. Pass the Fiend thru the pieces,
and yes, lay my dust,
honored on the Erd.
Rock.

Yawn in anger,
so different than the wrath of my enemies,
waking for me, giving me judgement,
finding me a band of hands
beating, clapping, higher & higher.
What does the director think
of all this righteous clatter?
My Ray Charles stitched on trial
for wicked this way done.
Let's groove to the just
with heart and head.

A shield in Yawning.
A left-handed Mit,
judging in right field.
Yes. Yawn in anger daily,
while U in prison, sharpen that stick,
bend your back, pull that gut,
and shoot the broken arrow
to light up the sky.

You see? In just twice time,
you see mischief conceived
in womb of lies.
He dug that hole,
and fell head first, a minor
***** slapping him in return.
Slapping him from the heights,
yawning just twice time,
to wake, sing, and praise most high.

How could it be
that it's just me
wondering when we
will laugh again with glee.

What scared ghost do we flee
into Summer's buzzing bee
passed a late Falling tree?

I grant that he
has a good degree
and a family pedigree,
but aren't we all free?

I feel tainted with frosty
touches of Northern fee,
invoices billed from a Cree
living in tent or tipi
while burning my effigy.

Down on one knee
at a Maypole jubilee,
drunk and happy,
tragically at the end greedily
eating too much Sandra Lee,
that's me!

Half squinting a dopie
smile and slanting queer
boats with rhyming keel,
I barter with a misty sea,
wanting badly to ***,
but instead shade my eyes to see.

Discarded to dry.

2x9
fertile cross  
every day      
art up
science wake
pattern make
live box
martial art
pattern mark
build real

2x3
see hear
smell touch
taste there


2x5
episode deal
memory fast
procedure feel
compiled base
cute interlace

2x5
influence cross
ad here
art van
age psi
advantage sum