A canary flew
in my
window and sat at
my desk with
me.
It said,
who are you?
I replied,
I'm a base
poet that's been
dropped on
his head by life
a few times.
Eyes like a
kicked dog, and a
beard that doesn't
grow straight.

It chirped like
a Bach concerto, and
said,
ah yes, we are
all just dead
birds at the
bottom of a cage, tiny
lice crawling through
our eyes.
No song.
No light.

I said,
you're a strange
little fellow.
And we sat there,
like that, waiting
for 6:00 am
so, I could make
a beer run.

I loved you

And you took advantage of that.

I was the ladder you climbed

T
O

R
E
A
C
H

T
H
E

T
O
P

And when you saw the horizon

Y
O
U

T
H
R
E
W

M
E

B
A
C
K

D
O
W
N

But what you forgot was

I wouldn't be there to hold you

W
H
E
N

Y
O
U

C
A
M
E

C
R
A
S
H
I
N
G

D
O
W
N

To Earth, & me.

His hands were warm,
But he was dead inside.

Hail to thee sweet Roger
As you step through
The Great Curtin
The calm clear voice
You wrote in
Gave your creator
Quite the hurting
And so you pay
The ferryman
To cross the river Styx.
Who'se that ******* on the microphone
It can't be
OH ****** ****!!!!!!!!

Probably
About
Tuesday
Afternoon.

New sources say she put JFK to shame.