last night the moon was
glooming through the old
maple outside my window
or perhaps cedar or oak
or dogwood or mulberry, but
you see I’m no good with
trees. their leaves and barks
and shapes stand tall and
crooked or round or short
or thin–are ever in
mind, but their names
might as well be butter-
milk.
la la la
lee lee lee
there’s no meaning
that i can ascertain
to the things
i’m saying
right now
as i saw them.
So there.
oh happy day! you funny saucer!
Back and again and forth, again. I’m rounded up. And flattened off. And dangling like a splendid kind of aspirin.
Aspirin.
I have tea in the thing. It will make me sleep.
ah ha, new year. here we are again. the palindromical is over and done with.
tea in the eye of spiral. yippy do.
aw.