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got that angel spit

I got them ceremony legs

A highway demon left clicking, waiting for the bark of wheels

Laughing at your Christ humor

Damn that revolver smile

Chains A cookin, I got the steel shimmering

Breakfast, GET YOUR BREAKFAST!

Screaming at this silver omelet, “FUCK YOU! Out the window you go! Fall on the head of every goddamned tree hugging sunshiner this side of hell.

Going for miles and miles, searching for the motor powered bellies full of conversations and silver omelets

45s spinning and railroads hopping, pushing some boxes of opium and wheelchairs in boxcars with jug hands

You see, the mailmen in this town just bite the dogs pant legs

Old men drink the insulin and bring the wife a fresh plate of lumineers, with a little dash of sweet tea on the side

Drain pipes pouring like a visual breath, cat heave

My madhouse light flickerin, crying for a dry confession

I got NOTHING, swear to it

Go on and eat his tomb, eat his fuckin tomb.

EAT THAT TOMB OF HIS, AND ANGEL SPIT IT BACK OUT

I ate it out of the ground. Sure as my names Henry, With my angel spit, concrete went flyin

I slipped on back and jumped every ashtray

Walked on every slick wire, wired up

I let it bebop the heaven thing

I let her in my closet with frames and bail bondsmen

With crossbones and vodka shoestrings

Miss wash the red from her nerves, left standin with breezy revolver smile. Screamin “ I got money”

“ I GOT ME A HONEY” .. All I could say was “ step on down if your eyes are tight”

She said “ILL STEP ON DOWN IF THE PRICE IS RIGHT”

Then get to steppin

Sunday, August 22, 2010. Marshall Parker