Casanova heart-fueled rally of an ending,
left me standing
up above me
there’s a spicket
taunting like a jabber.
He’s hammering on my window box.
Today’s the day we salt the piper
and chew the rats in stew,
the clover kind,
the lover’s mind
for the dawn before the day.
I’ve opened up a wider eye
to see the sun that lies inside
and built a home of clay.
Adam and I eat lunch by the bay
and Trapper eats shit like us for breakfast.
I forgot the rest of this before I thought to write it.
I conceptualized it backwards
like a reverse birth effect order,
the cow and the chord order,
the mastiff grand hearth steader
combing his land on his head,
quaking like earth in the bed.
The master keel rolls at last,
feather droll
drum bowls
beat the dapper night.
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