the planets. the peaches.
pruned. picked. for the reaches.
the centuries. a second to the eternities.
you can have it. say laugh when. you hear the jazz note.
the voice of all that i spoke. the saxophone.
like dialing digits of truth. on the telephone.
come on. say one and two. up and down. the diversity in one single crown.
upon the ears of sound. it's the heart's listening device. toss it like rice.
at a wedding. human genes get paired up. and twisted.
so simple. it comes in flavors of licorice. red and black.
off and on. check the track. when the needle skips.
we find all these differences.
let me bring it back. for diversity.
zeroes and ones. spread the spectrum. across high and low frequencies.
it's so easy. let the record speak. can you stay on beat.
the principles of the high. the sincerity of the meek.
whatever lies between. is one or the other. blended across the centuries.
and all mothers. give birth to the last. man to the first.
follow that. discussion of high low.
mid ranges get blown. saxophone pace the flow. get pricked by the tweeters.
soul from the bass feeders. save the appetite. for the words that i write.
and then speak. you you. not me. splitting hairs. atoms. quarks. and light.
beams. like a smile. across a broad spectrum. either off. always on.
high low. then get gone.

The banana is an inside joke
from God
It is His calling card
And you can call home
if you would hold it to your ear
and speak directly to Him
Just kidding
Bananas are for the belly

He would have used perforated edges
but naysayers would be in an uproar
"How could your God think us so stupid!"
For they always imagine
that God reflects their own stupidity
And the atheist too
would have a fit
and a slew
of jokes about how the real evidence of God
has banana split

But just like little children know
mother puts the best food in the lunchbox
Humble believers can tell you
good loving means good grubbing
on the inside of the banana peel
And that's real

as children we live the eternal summer
as adolescents we go on in eternal blunder
in middle age we accept the eternal surrender
until old age washes in eternal slumber

hearts
falling like
shells
blasted
to find
love brandished
as a weapon
held tight
as a warm gun
convection's heat
from the
barrel of passion
searing
the handle
of emotion

There is a beginning, and an end;
contentment is in the middle