the Sage Nap To

The sage napped,
and the world carried on.
A nap of millennia,
a mapping too.

"Where can I dance?" said the sage,
awakened in rhythm.
Everybody said "right here."

The Sage Nap

The sage napped,
and the world carried on.
A nap of millennia,
a mapping of too.

"Where can I dance?" said the sage,
awakened in rhythm.
Everybody said "right here."

The Necessity of Success

He grew a following from The Necessity of Success .
and a-following they were, necessuccessfully.

- Can we all agree then, at lost,? they asked gleefully,. but no they couldn't.
There wasn't time for that.

The frivolity was a front to obscure the finality.

In the settings of the sequel you could select successively more succinct successes.

You could also just look at the pictures.

Feeling About With The Doctor

I had a feeling about the endtimes so
I put it on a notepad and give it to the doctor.
- Blimey, you're right," the doctor said!
- What do I need a doctor for?" I asked.
We went into business to market the feeling.

apond the path

My cat was named Susie. We’d take her to the pond, she liked to go swimming. A cat who swam, imagine that. A cat named Suzie no less. I put her in my lap after we shave 'er. She likes to be shaven after a good dip. The local human interest story was a cat story in our locality one day when one local day the story was yes about Sue's back at it, going for a swim.

Reporting I really hit it off, she was fine, I daresay felonious, the reporter upon whom my cat sat for the shave at 11 , cameras on. I daresay it , that is consider it daring to say because I reconsider cliches. Consider them bold now. I was avoiding them, speaking freely, speaking uniquely, creatively, off the path made of so many common tongues. Our uncommon tongues tied then, the lady anchor’s and i's, and she was a lady, a class act, and also our eyes met, cat on our laps between us. I broadcast my lost license, it broad cost me so, at last, the very next night for everyone to see - everyone tuned in after all those swam cat promos, after all,  no surprise that.

how dull

By what nefarious magic have I outlived both Jesus Christ and F. Scott Fitzgerald,
 my two most obvious spiritual forebears?
Through what dark dealings did I extend my time on this
 oft underwhelming orb? I recall no incantations nor blood ritual.

Perhaps not decaying bargain but heavenly purpose keeps me
 astride the precipitating maw that consumes the lot of us,
 but to that them or those ends first I must shed
 the tedious burdens of mere subsistence,
 the everyday horseshit of and from hand-to-mouth;

Them ends, to them ends,
 until we ends them, it's the devil's playground we yawn and toil in,
 lousy to remember the old story always, cast out of freedom,
 thusly how dull the demiurge made us.

Heroes on Villains

I remember, not been long, flying fast in freeway New Year's Eve Evening, Heroes and Villains came on & when that's that then for 3:38 or so California seems exactly the place. Then, somehow, Sail on Sailor played next & I was reminded yet again that the dissolution of the Wilson / Parks writing partnership is for me the great tragedy of American song.