Home.

I want to buy a house until
the cows come home.
I want some nervous soul granite and
an open floor plan. Friends galore.
Open windows. Clean dishes.
I want a backyard filled with Crystalline diaphragms sucking the life energy out of every pine.
A trampoline. A wobbly legged dog.
Pears that never fall and bitter to the taste.
Mason jars full of cum tucked just
under the floorboards.
An experiment to see if life can form on its own.
If it can suck nutrients and grow in captivity.
On night's fast fall I'll cook what I've got and
lay landed on the fresh-cut lawn.
Red bugs. Ticks and worms.
And I'll be damned if the stars
aren't in perfect working order.
A late night fast punch to the groin.
A shook up revival of sorts.
Just me, look look looking for ufo's but I never find them and I'll tell you a secret,
They're invisible. They've got the brains you know?
Grass roots. Hyper drive analog.
That's what I want.
I want to buy a house until
the cows come home.


Ray Strickland

June 28, 2017

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gypsyrose's picture

Favorite one.

Favorite one.