"Christ, asked the monkey
has the world gone mad"?
As he snips flower gardens
off golden kite blooms.
"Don't schlock your frocks
he says to the cockroaches".
"Are you pleased with the moon"? he asks.
His tummy is sore.
It aches. He ate too much
mulch. Oh, the pleasures of dirt.
"Sweep the floor with your dreams
Turn your mind into the sea
I swim in the sea.
I like to climb trees".
No comments:
Post a Comment