by The Poet Spiel
so i say to my mom
there's never anything to do
around this stupid place
and my mom says
well why don't you go and make something
so i say like what
and she says
why don't you make a peach tree
so then i start whistling
and she says
ever time i hear you start whistling
i know yer up to something
now you need to git yerself outside
an walk the stink off
so i go up to my room and
play with my pecker
then just as it starts feelin good
she hollers up the stairs
bobby lee what're you doing
so i holler back
i'm makin you a peach tree
then she hollers
don't you dare to get your paints
all over on your nice blankets
an i holler i'm doin my pencil
and she hollers what color
and i holler
same like a peach
an i'm not gittin it on my blankets
November 25, 2009
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2009
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November
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- WHEN I GET HER LETTER
- Flowers are for Pansies
- These Nails Cause Me To Hesitate
- Fires Of The Night
- What Sign of Absence?
- I REMEMBER HAIFA BEING LOVELY BUT
- WAR
- advice to the newly divorced
- memorial day at the twisted parrot
- christmas
- ritual respect
- peach tree
- '61 was a hell of a year
- Black Maps
- On Relationships
- like yeats
- Booty Duty
- Before He Goes Bare
- IMAGINING HER
- reaction to the evening news
- The Jazz Musician
- Grounded
- THE CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRY
- THE DAMP KISSES WE WILL NOT HAVE
- TODAY I WANT TO SPIT GIGILO AT HIM
- LIKE GETTING THAT NOTE MONTHS AFTER
- Yellow Snow
- Ball-N-Chain
- First Tulip
- New Things
- The Art of Forgetting
- THE PHOTOGRAPHS, THE FILMY WHITE GAUZY CURTAINS
- The Hammer Gets Thrown Out Again
- The Real Me
- Conflict
- What I should have done
- NOT ONLY DID HE
- SUDDENLY IT’S WHAT I THINK OF
- All So Easy
- THE DREAM OF MY DEAD GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE, THE STRA...
- THE TOO DARK TUNNEL OF A HALLWAY DREAM, DESPAIR, T...
- Brain Of Hitler
- One Day After Work
- The First Hooker (or Dead Eyes In Chicago)
- these last few weeks
- hungover
- AFTER TOO MANY NIGHTS DRUGGED
- “IN THE VIOLET HOUR” ON A PAGE, MAYBE IN A POETRY ...
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November
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