It don't mean a thing
to swing you have to cajole
automatically
heaps of shit sometimes
just
sing
ground notes and difference
two sound pictures
making
up to each other
both loud speakers
or two separate voices
or
a voice and its echo
off a shiny wall
or a fart out your arse, uttering
forcefully
misunderstanding
where you are
signaling zigzagging fascination
ideas
relying on rhapsodic
conversation
often the same and always fresh
till whatever’s combustible dies
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