the smoke from my cigarette
stains
I have this smoke
all through my veins
it runs freely whenever it wants

the smoke from my cigarette stains.

the inhale is deep
and the smoke remains.
my lungs are intoxicated
and full of stains.

smoking hot
or smoking cold

I don’t care for seasons
my cigarettes taste good all year round

I loaned a friend $3000 for plastic surgery,
I am still looking for her.

The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
        The lawyers know
        a dead man's thought too well.

In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.

When the lawyers are through
What is there left, Bob?
Can a mouse nibble at it
And find enough to fasten a tooth in?

Why is there always a secret singing
When a lawyer cashes in?
Why does a hearse horse snicker
Hauling a lawyer away?

The work of a bricklayer goes to the blue.
The knack of a mason outlasts a moon.
The hands of a plasterer hold a room together.
The land of a farmer wishes him back again.
         Singers of songs and dreamers of plays
         Build a house no wind blows over.
The lawyers--tell me why a hearse horse snickers
         hauling a lawyer's bones.

Wilson and Pilcer and Snack stood before the zoo elephant.

     Wilson said, "What is its name? Is it from Asia or Africa? Who feeds
it? Is it a he or a she? How old is it? Do they have twins? How much does
it cost to feed? How much does it weigh? If it dies, how much will another
one cost? If it dies, what will they use the bones, the fat, and the hide
for? What use is it besides to look at?"

     Pilcer didn't have any questions; he was murmering to himself, "It's
a house by itself, walls and windows, the ears came from tall cornfields,
by God; the architect of those legs was a workman, by God; he stands like
a bridge out across the deep water; the face is sad and the eyes are kind;
I know elephants are good to babies."

     Snack looked up and down and at last said to himself, "He's a tough
son-of-a-gun outside and I'll bet he's got a strong heart, I'll bet he's
strong as a copper-riveted boiler inside."

     They didn't put up any arguments.
     They didn't throw anything in each other's faces.
     Three men saw the elephant three ways
     And let it go at that.
     They didn't spoil a sunny Sunday afternoon;

"Sunday comes only once a week," they told each other.

The truth
lies
in the mouth
of a politician