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Huts-pah

wind_sail

Ruts are like rust.

no buts, they’re a bust.

familiar, but still yer

–what remains what’s

–squandered unknown…

so wander alone…

since guts call for gusts

or still winds unflown.

Doggone Distraction

lionxdog
 
I don’t have a pet,

but bump into one
 

every beach day just the same…

–as reliable as any

ever kept,

(even if the owner isn’t)

I can count on Prince to be there

stamping on my tootsies,

nipping at my heels,

and ready to play ball.

(an arch’type, you know?)

If I run—he runs

If I walk—he walks

If I fall—he falls, since

London Bridge is comin’ down, and

Prince can’t negotiate deep sand for sh*t

He lovess the surfline, and

I don’t mind–

–it keeps me on my toes

and more the merrier, he

Such a good companion, but even so

–when I leave,

I leave

Prince

behind, and it’s only

right I should

–foregoing sands

for cement,

I know the city

won’t

Foot

Prince’s

feats.

 

 

High Way

high_way
 
In Lulu’s halls,

you hear hymn—

Carol, too,

and if you

litany

canticles
 
 
after

Hearse song–

you’d see Him, as well,

and good!

God—if I were you,

I’d

say

halo.

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