The New Cobweb Summer

The last thought that you think today

Has already happened

The link between profound and pain

Covers you like sherwin williams

The smokey joe is broken

Drops into your lap

And the big red wasp

Makes a scan through

My black pages

Last night, our boy was out there

Burning up his matches

I saw him in the afternoon

Sporting a black eye

The universal man

Holds a pistol or a bottle

Types with confidence

As we grow out of our bruises

Once, I had a friend

Who had the knack of

Tossing his mind around geography

Boy, you think you have problems?

The hunter is asleep

At least that's what I call him

In the afternoon

Of the new cobweb summer