I know about perception, yours.
you always seem to know
when impulses descend
down from my brain right to the end
There once was a poet named Stu,
he would write 'til his fingers turned blue.
When he searched for a rhyme
he committed a crime,
Today I vote that the great title
of greatest poet goes to Eitel,
Raynette's the name, poems her game
she keeps alive the wondrous flame
They say it flies.
And is quite indistinguishable
Just like the tide,
He woke, a bit too early
on that Saturday in May.
And could no longer fight
the smoke-filled fact of
I think the chuckle is all mine,
and if it ain't then nothing's lost
as some of us drink noble wine
and others shudder at the cost
They got the job that summer,
house-sitting in the Siskiyous.
Among the Ponderosa Pines
and squirrels, bushy-tailed,
A timid boy, that's what he was.
A nerd in school, though into sports,
observing all his hometown laws
but drifting laterally, of sorts.
She actually isn't mine at all.
Jack Russell Terrier called Hoolie.
Replacement for the one who did
with canine curiosity, while daring fate