i have no oars. i have a picnic hamper and hope in my heart. things coming to a crisis: danger and opportunity. the cone of light tight down on my fused skull like a drill the light makes everything okay.
the first wish in the wishing cup.
i cock my head to the song inside, i catch rags of it when the wind is right. i take my cocktail and try to write it down. this shift. certain as noon. and a broken clocks right twice a day.
hes a grail knight. and that knight chooses to put the grail before him.
i dont want believe any of the rest of it all.