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About This Poem
wrapped in two four time
spent nearly sixty
on a ridin high big sky
sag jawed face
if ya don't know why
shootin stars, ropin dreams
gettin nearly squat
hardway said it all ta me
dreams they cain't be caught
yippee ki yi yo
and a yippee ki yi yay
what ya gonna do
and what ya gonna say
howling out loud
at a plumb broke moon
it’s half past Monday
but it ain't quite noon
drug ever river bottom
fittin to be tied
never take a biggie horse
on a itty bitty ride
rack ‘em up, toss ‘em down
rack em up agin
when yer doin what yer doin
ya do it when ya kin
church bus rollin
fulla south paw sinners
disc jock yappin clappin
playin up some spinners
sad dog laughing sore
he ain’t got no bone
fathers, sons and holy guests
sittin all alone
hole is in the bottom side
up near the top
rattle by the tin can
never gonna stop
a full house empty
goin out to stay
babies got a dime a nickels
droppin into play
what ya think’s the thing to do
come time for bottoms up
make the stories fit the crime
a blue cow ain't no pup
pickin at some scabby sore
slivers on the griddle
now we start to get somewhere
right about the middle
tossin back a big fish
don't make a small fish grow
smoke a pack a pall malls
across a quivered bow
take a downside crystal cold
outside in bright night
one old body’s wrong way’s
just another body's right
stamp it loud, send if off
brown it out of town
lookin at the edge of things
see what’s comin down
ain’t it clear that what is
don’t matter any how
mighta done it yesterday
no chance a doin it now
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