from ''cochranton dreams''

sudden
the winter night opened its wings
and moved in a flight
bathed in white shadows
at once left behind lost
with each precious mile
in the rushing headlamps
bright on the crazied dream
of a corvair ride off 79
with the fields clean
and cold cider fuelin'
hard the running night
of jack and jill mary and bill
and sally passed out on the front seat
so they had to carry her
onto the enchanted hood
and massage her big tits
with beautiful snow
until she came to moaning
then gathering all the stars
they loaded back in the car
and went along with the night
shot like guns in the distance

lookin' out of the side window from the 'no name bar'

this unquenchable evil learns me few and many ways

to transgress and expiate hence

penance remains a sham in spite of having been paid

-for instance take a number-

once i awoke and got on with my business

when a sudden discomfort grew in my middle

disrupting a wholesome routine and forced me

to lean back for a few years to consider in turn 

a series of inevitable perhaps necessary mishaps 

which had taken hold of me scoring brazenly 

because what had been established was disrupted

not by need it was a hasty and greedy change  

of ego’s master game plan and it kept on growing

fashionably and avidly until it exploded a vortex

precisely where things arise

and without further cause or trace of will

i found myself oblivious in a shambles

ruin of a place swamped by the flood

i ran up a flight of decrepit stairs to a trembling floor

where i laid and tried to rest

and as i looked at the sky

through the great gap on the walls opened to the fire

i saw in a flaring epiphany a score of disasters

cross the limits of my citadel of psych 

and viciously coerce me at gut's level

i tried to order my things but i'm held hostage

having let myself drawn absently

to this mess caging me with the rabble of the earth

so alone and with a promise echoing tall _in short

that every man shall sit under his own three undisturbed

provided he forsakes his own being and puts to death

whatever nature is rooted in earth

_giving it all away to cosmic hells_  flesh blood

smiles delivered as well

all of which in turn i reject  -meanwhile-

i still hear the river flow long and see the sky

lit crimson manmade and then i fix holes

that every parched throat may lie well in the sand