10/10/08 7:28pm

staccato beat
drum line bass,
surrender arms down
in time.
find it now,
mo reasoning,
no consultation -
stick it to the lottery,
chances are a stone;
chances are
you never found the chime
in existence,
the right beat
or pitch to sell
what it was worth ~
an ambient tribal escape.

the hot dog is $3,
the gas is $50,
your rent is demanded
in hundred dollar portions
by a woman grinning
at the teeth.
make it up,
"i got off at the wrong
train stop
and some motherfucker
with a monkey on his arm
got my wallet."
sweaty lips
gnarling at the birds,
lose time in a tunnel
and find the basics -
fundamental offbeat
originality
that'll pay the bills;
tell the bitch
you found god
and that all will come
in clear time.
back to the beginning,
steady,
louder,
repetition broken
and done up
out of the sunday dress -
find it,
find the excitement
out of the trouble,
slide it closer
and do something new

a woodblock in the door
keeping solitude,
keeping the foot
slid ahead the other
as you lean back
still awaiting, consciously,
to have to stand
and give your defense
when god didn't
come and give you the answer.