when the sun smiles on the leaves
just so,
they build a bridge across....

what bullshit! what banality!

i wouldn't know what a soul was
or wasn't
if it bit me on the arse,
if that
and i'd probably attribute it
to the nasty neighbor's drooling dog

and all i can do is mythopoesize
as long as i'm not in the grave,
creepy crawly things in hot pursuit,
waiting for some kind of recollection.