<quote>

When you’re young, and in good health,
you can imagine living in New York City,
...
<quote />

<quote>
...
Your body is a garbage can.
Your body is white, why

let others touch it, why
not. Why

my body so
tentative, do I
...
</quote>

As close letting
to bending bones
broken,

As wide setting
so mending minds
rhyme,

As We of age,
collateral children
in time will rage

In strapless grown,
in dead damage
razed by wings flown.

<quote>
...
This is a waist the spirit breaks its arm on.
The gods themselves, against you, struggle in vain.
This broad low strong-***** brow; these heavy eyes;
These calves, grown muscular with certainties;
This nose, three medium-size pink strawberries
...
</quote>

You gotta remember
that we're just
upright primates
full of fear,
pounding chest,
full of joy,
vicious in survival.
Small band of the Hand
clumping together,
increasingly clustering,
like fractal adolescence.
Fighting and *******;
Cuban Missile Crisis,
and Free Love Sixties.
Proof that solutions
for small Hand & Bobono
don't fit sullen temperament
of precious preteen.

In a film,
In laced past,
Our shared memory
whispered
that if you build it
they will come.
And so he built it.
And so we build it.
A real field
where the ghosts
come to play.
I'm here
training my ghost.
He might not be good
or even Shoe-less.
Maybe, maybe in
a fast forward moment
a young Costner,
with love of the game,
will see my ghost
long after
and play a day
catching ball.

Who's left holding lost remotes?

Too many devices for soul oats
seeded in poor soil and bad reviews, a stinging blessing
at wicked thoughts best. Pride turning on TV, caressing
for an absent Love out of sight and mind. For the Roosters, Fear.

Combs without waivers, thinking, I will be Cockmeister here
with cursing chicks and deceitful vanity, Evil errant.

Secret murders, and poor innocents wearing broken covenant,
lured to an ant-lion's nest, sliding down Banker's drawers into earning
crevices of Mr. Crouch, his curvaceous cushions hiding hard yearning.  

Say Love is forgotten with a hidden face, because we'll never see
with Chicken humility the forgotten Love given for free.

What kinda fried Chicken doesn't hate free Sauce you might ask?
There's the poor commitment's rub, an Assistant father taken to task.

Violate his wicked arm. Search the veins of evil's grime
until the forever King is found mysteriously without crime.

You've heard our heart headset's rumble,
Oppressed orphan's plea given most humble.