• a.p. duvall

bees sour lonely fye end

don’t judge him!

he’s our only friend

& just cause he ain’t got a hat

doesn’t mean he’s part of this

or apart from that

it just means he ain’t got no

fashion sense.

the poor wretch!

come in from the cold

once more, once more, he said

come in from the cold

my lovely-as-ever, ancient friend

rest yer bones

take some time to really

take some time

and rediscover your stench.

why bother resisting your urge

to be gone a-ramblin

when you knew all along

what your intentions were

as soon as your ship landed

pawn your pots and pans

get gone and get home

get the road and don’t forget

your mangy shady tree grove

your saliva-filled sleeve hole

your rubber mandible please glove

your industrial tube of cow-shows

and your catalog from broke toes

cheese-a-gut mo’ than no-doze

light a fire in the peach rows

see silver heat & a punk-rock nose

sear a twice bought thought to a rose

call a van with twice the hose

i’m fallin where i’m standin

where i’ll land

well, who knows?

or at what time

mark the spot of your grave -

just not over there . . .

that one is mine.


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