"Elmo Lewis"
Elmo Lewis was a Rolling Stone on the wrong telephone.
The sun blocked its shadow.
Last night a full gold moon arose.
At the institute, Anonymous Bosch bit Vincent Van Gogh's toes to spite his nose.
A dead beat's Halloween.
The sober wind howls and blows.
The tunes flows to the rhythms of the singing in the back row at the show.
The junkies all overdose.
Smelling salts wake up the sleeping people praying at the Steeple.
A dreaded designer dog dines on delightful dinners.
Today, tomorrow was yesterday's Saturday.
Saturday turned to Sunday following last Monday.
My bluesday's birthday.
J. Billet's alias Anonymous Bosch
No comments:
Post a Comment