Brown shoes read herring leather souls
effs and esses and dam's worths at a time

Said, yoke up,
some time, Old Brother Bowers, he'd shout
get outa bed, say it like I'da said it, he'd say

some day, the LORD, is gonna wake us up,

because Old Brother Bowers, knew, he was
not long for this world, and he had preached

some revivals on the reservation, hear him tell

Hellfire, he was preaching in a brush arbor,
on what appeared,  in his vision a treeless plain,

the image of escaping convicts is a meme, true-
ly yoked to the old rugged cross… Cretan wise

brother, where art thou strikes a cord, banjo
boom la cachuma boomer strokes set a vibration

Jubilation P. Cornpone partnered up with
Daddy Warbucks, dealing in orphans made warriors.

We did see our relatives in the funny papers, then.

Yes, we had all things in common, schooled normalized
and baptized to insure personal service, from the gate.

We started to see our selves in comedies of errors,

And some families went into televised animation,
while some just drifted away on smoking flax waves

out past the street lights at the on ramps, in memo-

reum riverdanced right wit little bird shadow tats
tapping out an esohes hester panim this and that’s

where we start in the morning… if the power don't fail,
and the creeks don't rise and the jokes get broke

and all captives in my ink thinks flit freely in to the night.