fog-light circus fly

each stanza is a
haiku; falling from the sky
like bird shit splatter.

but over your head
is where the skyline courses
blood; poet stalker.

the matter of course
is to course matter through you
not over your head.

like birds shaking wings
wings shaking stalks of dried corn
shakers and quakers.

birds shaking off the
horizon line, from sky end
to sky ending flight.

faking life on edge
legend of the ledge perchers
purchasing silence.

humple pumple pee

time flies- what happens when you throw a clock out a window.
-
butterscotch is a chocolate drop and i can't not talk about it.
-

i've lost touch with my side that used to be in touch with things,
so i keep touching things and hoping it's my side.
it never is.

-
today it's HOT and the AC in THE OFFICE i'm running is BROKEN.
today, HOT is what it is in this THE OFFICE of the BROKEN AC.
-
I don't give. in
time i might,
if time isn't
busy flying out
my open window.
which is currently
curtainless, closed
and current-
less.
-
my mind is a lesson that i've tought no-one.
know one and you know no-one.
none will ever be known.
-

humble is the bumble bee for he knows not his name.

10-4 goot butty.

I'm dirtying your coffee cups
last. first I'll dirty your coffee
maker. In the middle I'll wait.
---
there.

-------
no there.

--------
hello, i'm talkative.

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a burning bush is not a sign from god, it's probably a yeast infection.
is that a weird thing for a man to say?
or just a weird thing for anyone tosay?
-----------
if tuesday was today, it wouldn't be tomorrow.
tomorrow wouldn't be today if it were tuesday.
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10-4 good buddy.