the artist

[Manslick]

the artists are out now
hoop holler dance mime
in the holler is a cow
falling down in time

we ablume all the rhythm
while the flakes fly off
to join the big collective
where the noon moon shines

i do partake ..
there's a chrome cake
i'm not the last to bite
in the moon lit night

go up to the top
show us your plop
oh! this is swell
like a butter pad on hell

this smile is a mile long
with the blond curl on your cheek
and your bedroom black eyes in earnest
not to mention the continental hips you ride

as an aside i mention to my mate
hey look, push his chin toward the moon
then as the bolt comes from nowhere
im mute and drawing hard oxygen

a bit out i guess - no time clocks here - hard to tell
feel ok, face is clean
a girl looks over the rail with blue eyes heavy with hail
sweet agreeable fingers

she rises
in the well lit midnight kitchen
she cracks a few eggs
whisks them in a little blue bowl
with cheese and sea salt
a subtle face assault
i have no recourse but to obey
shake the pan into which she puts the mix
we dance while the heat cooks
then eat the savory