As I sit upon my legs, legs sit upon thoughts
I am aware
Aware that god can stares cause I have the eyes of the master jewels like open views in the country yard were rosters sing into the mountains of Texas
Where the cat is a lion and these poems are novels, I sit upon my legs because my legs are walking constantly roaming the void of cerebral roads, continually homeless bound by a society of fool that drool on top of the table looking for salvation in there pockets, but can only be saved by thee roots of their hands.
See I had a plan to fly with two feathers in my fingertips and paint the world a drum that can talk better than the crickets can sing.
(this might be incomplete)
k e bummings
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