disarray by Jim BenzI spin out of control into trash cans
bouncing off bricks in the alley
I spin circles and mathematic misconceptions
I spin broken glass into bone spurs
I spin stories that have no meaning
that smoke cigarettes and bark at strangers
I spin excuses for a crack head, I spin smoke
and bar fights, I spin shattered bottles
I spin tales with the railyard drunks
I spin dreams in the clink of a tin cup
I spin beggars without any legs
I spin goblets from the sand in an ash tray
I spin doctors, I spin days
I spin children like candy bar cyclones
I spin orbits and split novel bindings
I spin on the bus depot bench
I spin through wind and the sunlight
I spin heads in the sound of a footstep
I spin flames in the wreckage of burnt cars
I spin joints in a volkswagon van
I spin discs, I spin wheels in the graveyard
I spin china in your mothers clean kitchen
I spin sky through the hole of a pretext
I spin buckets of time and hogwash
I spin neglect into pink cotton candy
I spin circus clowns and peanuts
I spin fire and drunken slurs
into gang fights, I spin washed out photos
I spin color through the shadows of nightfall
but in the day, I spin black and white 07/23/2006 Posted on 07/23/2006 Copyright © 2024 Jim Benz
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