Post by Steve on Nov 19, 2007 12:50:45 GMT -5
On the side of
This road
There were no whores
Or broken bottles
No cig butts
Or fast food garbage
But there was a
Dead dog
And snake
No buildings
Trying to stick
Into the heel
Of heaven
Or waste cans
Defecating on themselves
just field
Yellow like
Barley brew
Hair on an arm
I once knew
And now only
Recall
Just saplings
Thin, meek nerdy
Intellectual limbs
That rode the wind-
ing curves like
Stitching on a coat
On the side of
This road
I prayed
The tires no more than
Fingernails
The brake pads
Constantly gripping the
Front wheel
As children grab fistfuls
Of a mother's skirt
Chain orange and old
Gear missing teeth
Others just broken
Chewed the links
Over
And
Over
Again
And swallowed where
One
Slipped by
Torn seat-
After the rain was water logged-
Sponge cake
Fungus cigarette filter color
Poked out from
Beneath my ass
On the side of
This road
Is where i left
Jesus Jones
and his new found friend
who attatched a
Crate -wooden- from
California -that once held clementines-
to the front of his
Bicycle
by the fifth turn
i couldn't hear his laugh
and behind
i saw nothing
only inclined asphalt worming
into woods like a tapeworm
entering the soft arch
of an evergreen sole
On the side of
This road
i waited two hours
On the chest of the
Corner store
Drinking dysntary
From a hose
Trying the payphone
Dropped
The coins
And stared at the
Blue scabs
That fell off the building's face
Even while the
Operator
Spoke
i only stared
i dropped
The coins
But thought
"i have a beer
and black beans"
Yeah
A beer beat you
But
i thought about
Climbing the hill
Again
After
Drinking the beer
On the side of
This road
i wanted to call-
The most i've ever needed-
Tell you
i Learned how to fly
i paid to tell you
it's a bit later but
i flew
and i'm
sorry
not just for
not calling
`cause i never did
climb it again
i had the chance
And i'm still confused
As to why
i never did
Call
or
Climb
just my consistant
idling stagnation
but i tell you this
as well
i haven't flown since.
This road
There were no whores
Or broken bottles
No cig butts
Or fast food garbage
But there was a
Dead dog
And snake
No buildings
Trying to stick
Into the heel
Of heaven
Or waste cans
Defecating on themselves
just field
Yellow like
Barley brew
Hair on an arm
I once knew
And now only
Recall
Just saplings
Thin, meek nerdy
Intellectual limbs
That rode the wind-
ing curves like
Stitching on a coat
On the side of
This road
I prayed
The tires no more than
Fingernails
The brake pads
Constantly gripping the
Front wheel
As children grab fistfuls
Of a mother's skirt
Chain orange and old
Gear missing teeth
Others just broken
Chewed the links
Over
And
Over
Again
And swallowed where
One
Slipped by
Torn seat-
After the rain was water logged-
Sponge cake
Fungus cigarette filter color
Poked out from
Beneath my ass
On the side of
This road
Is where i left
Jesus Jones
and his new found friend
who attatched a
Crate -wooden- from
California -that once held clementines-
to the front of his
Bicycle
by the fifth turn
i couldn't hear his laugh
and behind
i saw nothing
only inclined asphalt worming
into woods like a tapeworm
entering the soft arch
of an evergreen sole
On the side of
This road
i waited two hours
On the chest of the
Corner store
Drinking dysntary
From a hose
Trying the payphone
Dropped
The coins
And stared at the
Blue scabs
That fell off the building's face
Even while the
Operator
Spoke
i only stared
i dropped
The coins
But thought
"i have a beer
and black beans"
Yeah
A beer beat you
But
i thought about
Climbing the hill
Again
After
Drinking the beer
On the side of
This road
i wanted to call-
The most i've ever needed-
Tell you
i Learned how to fly
i paid to tell you
it's a bit later but
i flew
and i'm
sorry
not just for
not calling
`cause i never did
climb it again
i had the chance
And i'm still confused
As to why
i never did
Call
or
Climb
just my consistant
idling stagnation
but i tell you this
as well
i haven't flown since.