aretha/crystal juxebox queen of hymn & him diffused in drunk transfusion wound would heed sweet soundwave crippled & cry salute to oh great particular el dorado reel & ye battered personal god but she cannot she the leader of whom when ye follow, she cannot she has no back she cannot..beneath black flowery railroad fans & fig leaf shades & dogs of all nite joes, grow like aches & cures the harmonica battalions of bitter cowards, bones & bygones while what steadier louder the moans & arms of funeral landlord with one passionate kiss rehearse from dusk & climbing into the bushes with some favorite enemy ripping the postage stamps & crazy mailmen & waving all-rank & familiar ambition than that itself, is needed to know that mother is not a lady,..aretha with no goals, eternally single & one step soft of heaven/ let it be understood that she owns this melody along with her emotional diplomats & bar earth & her musical secrets.

the censor in a twelve wheel drive semi
stopping in for donuts & pinching the
waitress/he likes his women raw & with
syrup/ he has his mind set on becoming
a famous soldier

manuscript nitemare of cut throat high & low & behold the prophesying blind allegiance to law fox, monthly cupid & the intoxication ghosts of dogma...nay & may the boatmen in bathrobes be banished forever & annointed into the shelves of a live hell, the unimaginative sleep, repetition without change & fat sheriffs who watch for doom in the mattress...hallaluyah & bossman of the hobos cometh & ordaining the spiritual gypsy davy camp now being infiltrated by foreign dictator, the pink FBI & the interrogating unknown failures of peacetime as holy & silver & blessed with the texture of kaleidoscope & the sandal girl...to dream of dancing pillhead virgins & wandering apollo at the pipe organ / unscientific ramblers & the pretty things lucky & lifting their lips & handing down looks & regards from the shoulders of adam & eve's minstrel peekaboo ...passing on the chance to bludgeon the tough spirits & the deed holders into fishlike buffoons & yanking ye erratic purpose ... surrendering to persuasion, the crime against people, that be ranked alongside murder & while doctors, teachers, bankers & sewer cleaners fight for their rights, they must now be horribly generous...& into the march now where tab hunter leads with his thunderbird / pearl bailey stomps him against a buick & where poverty, a perfection of neptune's unused clients, plays hide & seek & escaping into the who goes there? & now's not the time to act silly, so wear your big boots and jump on the garbage clowns, the hourly rate & the enema men & where junior senators & goblins rip off tops of question marks & their wives make pies & go now & throw some pies in the face & ride the blinds & into aretha's religious thighs & movement find ye your nymph of no-conscience & bombing out your young sensitive dignity just to see once & for all if there are holes & music in the universe & watch her tame the sea horse / aretha, pegged by choir boys & other pearls of mamas as too gloomy a much of witchy & dont you know no happy songs

the lawyer leading a pig on a leash
stopping in for tea & eating the censor's
donut by mistake / he likes to lie about
his age & takes his paranoia seriously
the hospitable grave being advertised & given away in whims & journals the housewife sits on, finding herself financed, ruptured but never censored in & also never flushing herself / she denies her corpse the courage to crawl — close his own door, the ability to die of bank robbery & now catches the heels of old stars making scary movies on her dirt & her face & not everybody can dig her now. She is private propert. . . bazookas in the nest & weapons of ice & weatherproof flinch & they twitter, make scars & kill babies among lady shame good looks & her constant foe, torn sawyer of the breakfast cereal causing all females paying no attention to this toilet massacre to be hereafter called Lonzo & must walk the streets of life forever with lazy people having nothing to do but fight over women. . . everybody knows by now that wars are caused by money & greed & charity organizations / the housewife is not here, she is running for congress

the senator dressed like an austrian
sheep, stopping in for coffee & insulting
the lawyer / he is on a prune diet &
secretly wishes he was bing crosby
but would settle for being a close
relative of edgar bergen

passing the sugar to iron man of the bottles who arrives with the grin & a heatlamp & he's pushing "who dunnit" buttons this year & he is a love monger at first sight. . . you have seen, him sprout up from a dumb hill billy into a bunch of backslap & he's wise & he speaks to everyone as if they just answered the door / he dont like people that say he comes from the monkeys but nevertheless he is dull & he is destroylngly boring . . while Allah the cook scapes hunger from his floor & pounding it into the floating dishes with roaring & the rest of the meatheads praising each other's power & argue over acne & recite calendars & pointing to each other's garments & liquid & disperse into segments & die crazy deaths & bellowing fapce mortal farm vomit & why for Jesus Christ be Just another meathead? when all the tontos & heyboy lose their legs trying to frug while kemosabe & mr palladin spend their off hours remaining separate but equal & anyway why not wait for laughter to straighten the works out meantime & Wowee smash & the rage of it all when former lover cowboy hanging upside down & Suzy Q, the angel putting new dime into this adoption machine as out squirts a symbol squawking & freezing & crashing into the bowels of some hideous soap box & it's a rumble & iron man picking up his "who dunnit" buttons & giving them away free & trying to make friends & even tho youre belonging to no political party, youre now prepared, prepared to remember something about something

the chief of police holding a bazooka
with his name engraved on it, coming in
drunk & putting the barrel into the face
of the lawyer's pig, once a wife beater,
he became a professional boxer & received
a club foot / he would literally like to
become an executioner, what he doesnt know
is that the lawyer's pig has made friends with the senator

gambler's passion & his slave, the sparrow & he's ranting from a box of black platform & mesmerizing this ball of daredevils to stay in the morning and dont bust from the factories / everyone expecting to be born with whom they love & theyre not & theyve been let down, theyve been lied to & now the organizers must bring the oxen in & dragging leaflets & gangrene enthusiasm, ratfinks & suicide tanks from the pay phones to the housing developments & it usually starts to rain for a while. . .little boys cannot go out & play & new men in bulldozers come in every hour delivering groceries & care packages being sent from las vegas. . . & nephews of the coffee bean expert & other favorite sons graduation with a pompadour *** laude — praise be & a wailing farewell to releasing the hermit & beautifully ugly & fingering eternity come down & save your lambs and butchers & strike the roses with its rightful patsy odor. . . & grampa scarecrow's got the tiny little wren & see for yourself while saving him too / look down oh great Romantic, you who can predict from every position, you who know that everybody's not a Job or a Nero nor a J.C. Penny. . . look down & seize your gambler's passion, make high wire experts into heroes, presidents into con men, turn the eventual . . but the hermits being not talking & lower class or insane or in prison. . .& they dont work in the factories anyway