Gonbeen Man
Sitting in the back yard feeding leftover noodles and goat’s milk cheese to my dog (consider feta and watermelon, my currently favorite gorge; make sure you get both in your mouth at the same time), eyeing the hammock, thinking about putting new strings on my guitar, trying to write something.
Gonbeen Man
Sitting in the back yard feeding leftover noodles and goat’s milk cheese to my dog (consider feta and watermelon, my currently favorite gorge; make sure you get both in your mouth at the same time), eyeing the hammock, thinking about putting new strings on my guitar, trying to write something. Summertime, and So much to do.
Two motorcycles sit by, waiting to be worked on. One needs a fair amount of attention, the other very little. Wander over and start one. every so often, just to hear the sound, smell the juice. My tools are scattered and I can’t find the paint. Dog barks at the mailman and I wander back to the tripewriter.
If I put the strings on the guitar I’ll wind up playing it for at least an ijour and I may not find the typewriter until tomorrow. Might as well stay with it.
My cousin Harvey calls to ask do I know how opossums fuck? It seems he’s got a ten dollar bet with a guy he works with who says that they conceive through the nose. Actually, the plural of opossum should be opossa, and I never fucked one anyway.