wherewithal for your thoughts make
that two bartender music man
her fists were cumulus clouds
...
i poured a poesy
from a jar in a field
full of two-petaled
...
with the fuzzy edges of her floating
down to the smooth riverside boulders
with all those pebbles in her pockets
drifting without bizarre hesitation
...
it screamed through trees
while they giggled and
gulped beer eager for the
wreck of 1891
...