i

the flowers are no more..
(now only desolate straw)
but their love-like spores
leave our old hearts raw

off and away to far shores..
how the past leaves sore'd
the purple and yellow ore
amid god green to the fore

like my lovers hum after  
******
or
the sweet swallows..

ii

still alive
i love my wife
times i hate her
like wild flowers


a hammer and a wall
screaming neibos..
or the hawk in an
agave

freak so
give me
regard
my beauty

so i play an old
aire
love
me god!

(and i think
he is mine
but of course
i am his)

iii

i smoke one little
joint
i am ****** all day
good news kids..


iv

can´t spell
like some infinite
circle

forget that bag
i read great novels
in rapture

to find an answer
russians in
human nature

i recall walter
i remember t
he played

my guitar
hour after hour
and a guru

they hung
by his
shoulder

he had some
vision
he changes his

cigar holder
i wait for dinner
early mop heads

that blue
grass
my recluse

neighbo
he would
like to ask me

about the carpenters
as an intro
they let

you help
he had influence
there was hotels

long before
i barely remember
oh,mr postman..

v

soon it was then
to a turn
i wait when

like deserted
post
love loss

i watched
the cost
burn

my heart
to
toast

i scrape
and
cursed

but like
sand
start

to fail
salt to a snail
bad to worse

i try
nowhere
to eye-

elbow
dan dare
no more

bill and ben
flee here
is mr

gardener
a wild flower
little ****

broken
heart
and reality..