joking river, lullaby through

new front, cumuli

stimuli, through forest, not

much view,

I blame you.

I drive to the block where there’s

a shack, no snack, just enclosure,

peace, or some chord, broken

strings, so I use laps for drumset,

looking for original thought

on a tree, or


possibly, nearing time for sentence supper, need

a new song, done

by the next hour’s topping.