anne hath a way that william can
still not pin down and nail to the
wall of old ideas, born to die profundly
if not profusely into the wind
no pit closures, merge like a zip
batten down the hatches
with a stiff pair of lips and all that
lindy chamberlain, margaret thatcher
a right son of a bitch threw a dodge ball
right through the catcher in the rye
nixon in china, einstein on the beach
i and i cleaned up all the dishes
then i built a bonzai in the sink
and they say the time of day
never sleeps in the civil war
about heaven on earth.
what will they think of next?
an h-turn in time immemorial?
nah, i said that, whatever i am