Forest follow to get lost

its all a program and its doesn’t need correction–

sugar in coffee but not today, I need

truth because anymore it’s extinct like what defined

California, and in Big Sur I think I see what I see I

think, like a Picasso painting redrawn by a firsttime

brush pickerupper, and how do you do with that?

Waves over the bush’s shoulder, and I go closer to look,

just look, I promise.

The novel, I’ll finish it soon, I promise, I tell the editor, and when

I vow, I hope he

poisons himself accidentally.

That’d make a story of some kind, right?

One I could sell.  They only care about selling, sales, and

people like that deserve dirt, to be covered by it– the most damp, heavy and

vengeful of soils.

Becoming voltaic at my age, and I think I’m old even

though I’m told I’m still young.  That’s pity.  Change the channel, I

hate this show, the acting the cast the props the design the production and

the endorsements, paid for by the following…  I don’t follow, so…

(7/23/14)