"Meat Plow" wrote:
>
> Of course it's my call
Your problem is it isn't your call to make.
> Sky Poets of Dreamtown
>
> How could I ever know, sleepy lizard girl,
> how would I have known?
> In my flight from Rubbishtown, Shadowville,
> you were waiting for me?
> Providing silver rope and nuggets,
> comfort for my tarnished-
> seed man blowing in the breeze?
>
> Tone- spit the mystic substance on me.
> Stone- the Sky Poets call me from the rocks.
> Black and silver birds like bells.
> Shell- you are clever.
> Bone- it ****nes with your wetness.
>
> The Sky poets take note of:
> Sleepy lizard girl
> on the waves at midnight,
> riding glowing foam.
> They wander the broken orange moon.
>
> Rainbow Sky Poets,
> out there,
> they ride with the distant lightning brothers.
> Where thunder sounds like a clanging bell,
> or like tin cans clattering.
> I then hear the far off sound of sirens,
> perhaps an ambulance on A1A.
>
> In this dreamtown, I am:
> far from Shadowville.
> On the last day, I, a Sky Poet,
> sliced my foot on a rock.
>
> -Will Dockery
--
God's Toybox by Will Dockery and Dennis Beck
http://www.myspace.com/shadowvilleallstars
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