Sam the ShepardSam the Shepard with his staff bobbing rhythmically shaveling the grass blessing its allowing him to passSam the Shepard
feeling as though milling through finally focused Picassos (Yet… eyes still insulted in Vaseline) the stars steal dimensions from the mountains and towns
“Why do I only herd at night?” Sam considered always looking down
sheep bleats blending into prophecies
“Don’t blame the carpenter
blame the wood splinter smirks of rebellion” (Just look at those laugh lines)
smearing wind whispering aspersions &
dutch doorThis is not what was supposed to happen this man was and is a dutch doordutch door
He went back as confidently as he came I didn't think I'd see him again
But, in my boldest reflections the optimism of forsight swinging along the irony of hindsight I too thought so forward and acted so swiftly back
I waged and whimperd was plosive and passive masterful and malliable all while slowing down (push)
Now, to the both of us our wills are violent our G's are silent so, when we call each other "odd..."
now I may be... maybe.
