Close-up of Sandwich
to jupiter, buddha and a ham sandwich

blue-footed, the trip was all beatnik traffic,
from the slivered stream that sent marbles
to Orion's ears to cloaked lazy belles sleep-
ing hard over morning’s whistle        he hid

in the brambles hoping to catch her weight-
ed word, the Mount’s sermon, on feet them
     tiny found bagpipes impregnated
the lawn, gave day a new rise        if merry-

go-rounds send your clothing flying, throw
soup on a planet circling the year, then my
hat is the only well of seriousness and your
shirt, the sea’s map, gifted this lunatic city

©2007 by PJ Nights

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