I question what I know
and know I do not much
but maybe know not nobody
how know they suchy such

What stuttered whimsy
denies the morrow
and leaves its perfume in its wake?
What cloven promise
corrects wonder
that crude and muddy shows mistakes?

Lonely pillows petrify
Mine becomes a plastic sheath
To television inspiration
I hid my dreams beneath

And whole my sleep will stutter
My feet won't walk the floor
I'll take any chance at dawn's return
Murmuring 'once more'