Sound for the way down: Ani D, Educated Guess

by down I mean north and by west I meant you
so.

Do you remember? the fast car and drive it and they have given a you message, Bill astride counter intoning smoke and cheap wine in grinning summer doorway?

Nobody has respect for the cat
Asleep, and I am hopelessly
Inadequate in this poem

said Jack mid-poem and neither do I, did he, Poor Bill who revelled in the title. Fool King of the Street Storefront, he thought. Monsignor of the books and the young hopeful readers of the old hopeful dead, blessing wine and cigarettes and music in the name of the Holy Trinity: Dean, Brando and Presley. Openmouthed amen.

Out into the water goes my favorite surfer Marxist.

O Mao, poet Mao,
Not Boss Mao,
Here in America
Wine is laughed at
& poetry a joke
--Death's a grim reminder
to everybody already dead
crashing in cars all around here-
Here men & women dryly scowl
At poets' sad attempts
To make our lot
Lesser-

(Jack, "Running Through")

The joke is on you so the drink is on me.