when the music‘s over.
shut the snap on the useless travel satchel.
until the end
testing speeeeeeeed
testing temperament
i can see me in a hoary motel room pecking at this thing.
needs an overhead light
i shall wear a miner‘s cap to see the keyboard
or i shall hold the phone just so
so as to light the keys
i am on the road tonight
the road being a block away from Sorabji Central
a subway roars overhead
the road reminds me of The Band
and Neil Diamond
the road and the stage
the god damndest women you will ever see
to parameld both entity‘s pretentions about their
place of work
rabbi robertson shoplifting balogna
under his trenchcoat
with the rest of The Band
i mean was The Band
such a big deal that i must
listen to them talk about
shoplifting balogna
under their trenchcoats
from a grocery store?
on the road
on the road
my mother reviled willie nelson
and on one count i agree
that “always on my mind“
scrawl of misogyny where
mr. nelson declaims that
i ignored you
i neglected you i treated you like piss
i may have abused you
but iiiiiiiiii was thinkin‘ about ya.
sorriest love song, lacking
as it does,
any love.
but i saw willie
sing that song at woodstock
yuppie woodstock
tourist woodstock
and the crowd fell silent
contemplative
intellectual
winds of instinct
blowing through their
front-toothless grins as
willie sang the timeless ballad.
on the bus from
bethel to port authority
i met a man
who had seen willie
seen willie 80 times
seen willie
80 times
and it made him powerful
the man was powerful for he had
seen willie 80 times.