hobo time now…
in a prilimenary self jugement
vividly sucessfull for some kind of numbness
hats over hats over hats
grey and velvetly sitting in the warmth of keeping my eyes shut.
And i cut the connection
get an errection
leaning at the banister
with no affection but weiredness
for all the sweet people
wandering hatless and mindless
in the heat without use
and i spoon the oil out of the bucket
and suck it
while whitys on the moon.

Trying to consolidate thoughts
like stopping the stock market
from being existent.
Playin around with dices
and yoyo yolo pieces.
To show disrespect and disobbedience towards
the folks

all young swagmen
wearin sunglasses and scarfs in the summer
walkin down sun avenue
to dance
lookin for the so called real swag
artificial glance laughed at by bush poets
walzing mathilda

(you can feel the mud)

with rotten pens and rotten bags
and bad smelling dubety
while the piano has been winking
crawling on the train
broken carded
waitin.