They were looking for my brain early this morning.
I told them I had left it on the bus.
They were the children of limos,
didn't embrace the drama of public transportation.
There's a strange critter growing out of your noses, I warned them.
In the Hotel of Fools all the rooms will fit who you are.
Scheherazade is ordered to shut the fuck up.
We are wounded tunes of glory
slobbering with love,
the loud people never hear the end of what they yell.
Give me a few feet to fall on my ass and I'll be along.
Samuel Johnson loved to roll down green hills.
Iran would love to share their atomic weight
with you at the hop tonight.
I saw a monkey in the White House,
his teeth seemed clean to me.
Tell the umpire he's blind.
Would have loved to see Satchel Paige pitch Ruth.
See me roaming the cupboard
not looking for gold, mind you,
just humming an easier way to be.
The dogs begin to bark in French.
listening to The Man From God Knows Where, Tom Russell
copyright the estate of Scott Wannberg
Scott Wannberg (1953-2011)was a Carma Bum, an avid reader, a prolific and often profound poet and human's human who never met a soul he didn't touch. Widely loved and published, Scott was a native of Santa Monica, California who exited much too soon in August 2011 at the age of 58 while living in Florence, Oregon. A book buyer and clerk at Dutton's Books in Brentwood, California until its closing in 2008, Scott received his Masters Degree in Creative Writing from San Francisco State University in 1977. The author of numerous books including The Official Language of Yes!, available for purchase from Viggo Mortensen's Perceval Press.