Burnt Fly Blog

fitful verses at the old intermittent saloon

This is a constant...right here, thank you
when characters too many
terrorize like wanna be poems, waiting in line at the bar
to talk and trademark these violated lifestyles...how many?
like catching fruit flies over well gin and a chord change
useless without my sticky paper, I am...that's cool
need an air blower shocker like at the haunted house at Great Adventure
a wind jolt right though...come around back and write one or two won't you?
my poems wanna fuck but i can't find them in the dark corners in the back
Chianti ghosts, foreign Oban sippers, French martini whores
scrambled bebop heads, just want my eggs at 5am....
right over here, thank you right next to the short piece and admission bread
well what to say to the Vonnegut newspaper pic cut out
hanging below Lenny Bruce, Zoot Sims and Patron
this is it...so there?
Not just yet, let me get in there...excuse me there
rhymes and edits
cut into my nights just right...wait, I wanna talk to you
steady, I'll write you...hold on a sec
yeah, I wanna love you
like a regular too