Wednesday, October 7, 2015

a few old beads & beds/mark young

Making my way
through the Territory
in increments. Familiar
landmarks, out of
sequence. Leftwing
numerology pur-
loined by the moral
majority, their daughters
dancing a strange bump &

grind as the concertmaster
tries to keep time & them
in line. Their sons weep
over lost opportunities.
Dusk falls but no-one
recognizes it. Midnight
finds me jamming with
a voodoo band. We play
Smoke on the Water.

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