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.
Deeds do sprout ideas we need a will that's tamed to good sense, working nonsense just if there is a certain glow sometimes... visionary true wisely shown
