Caught no eyes for Reds
No stomach for butterflies: words I
shoulda never've said
My hands are waisted
Lungs ablaze, torched by low water
Levi's
Modern man, I am, so suspended
All my lives, always I've been dependent?

I have no ears for nothings,
No matter how sweet
A nose ain't for roses nor pale concrete
Better served in service towards
Some dream, c'est fantastique...
A matter of mind, weighed Large Above
Kerouacian seams
Borne back, never to cease
My bones; clattered and battered an American beat

Some soul for a saving, suppose
No faith for the golden fleeced,
Howe'er a lion takes the meat, God knows
Of heart, I weigh much
But suffer no touch, unfeasted on an Appled iCore
How vacant must one be!
For life to give purpose, for Heaven to speak
How persistent a rose from a Sidewalk's end grows
Yet unlike a bull, I'll cane no Calgary