serve the one lonely brain,
but we two
were earbuds once,
with two cans and a string
pulled tight in between.
From here it gets tricky
Plum crazy
sounds like
a good crazy to be.
Even W.C.
rejoiced in its juice
in his plum crazy
poetry.
From nothing comes
alumination:
the ball struck
now spinning
to a far outfield
of the mind.
We’re with it going,
going gone.
Till that garden, folks!
No, I don’t let Him get too human
‘Fore you know it He’ll be comin’ in,
settin’ up shop,
puttin’ His feet up
and wantin’ to wash mine.
You first
Filioque redux
The spirit proceeding
from this father and son
is kindly, too,
for I’ve promised him
KFC
after the Mass.
Who’d have thought they’d choose Utrecht?
We’re better off signing off
with a promise of patience
than sticking the afflicted
with a fix they can’t use.
