Poem poem

(Questioning the beggar)

Curious is the loom
diving into doom
flying on a broom
the sky goes boom and
shouts its hallelujah

Bell jingles
nerves tingle and
wind whistles
thorns prick skin
as you pen your next epistle

Look for me Sunday
ask for deacon Joe
clearing a throat, jotting
sermon notes
my private public speaking

Streets wake early, late
set a date! congregate! fulminate!
sly wry grin = ‘do not wait’
I’m never drunk, so
why this blasted hangover?

Shake me down; feel em up
wolf to pup, toad to tad
fling a coin in my
styrofoam cup
I’m worth every penny

Think big! Analyze a regicide
deconstruct a tsunami
or, pick apart a raccoon-crow roadkill and
write the most layered, thrilling sitcom pilot about nail polish remover and the canaries who wallow, swallow, lie fallow and cry golly and if that's what you really really
desire then
just don’t call me late for dinner

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