I DO have my penis in my hand,
so far from home!
so far from home!
It’s touching my left palm, the
little gnome.
My right hand holds a bald-point pen.
Should I write another poem?
My right hand holds a bald-point pen.
Should I write another poem?
Well, my brain is oozing foam,
my feet are dreaming of warm sand,
so far from home!
my feet are dreaming of warm sand,
so far from home!
You can say I’m nothing but a
Jones
machine (but I don’t dig men).
I yearn to write another poem
machine (but I don’t dig men).
I yearn to write another poem
about how it feels to be the
roving
wool (not wolf) out on the land,
so far from home,
wool (not wolf) out on the land,
so far from home,
fed through love’s orifice onto
the spinning
mother of all dreams, like the Stellar Band.
Should I make another poem,
so far from home?
mother of all dreams, like the Stellar Band.
Should I make another poem,
so far from home?
