Jasper's Eyeballs

    "Jasper's Eyeballs"




All the mugs wear different rugs on their heads.

Some don't have any hair to wear at all.

Big ears, and mugs, with eyes that cry plenty of tears.

Quietly concentrating, trying to see through the rain-

covering the windshield- on the way from Boston to New York.

Driving alone, in my eyes, thick glasses along with the sick asses.



I am a man of many faces and different thoughts.

Riding from the old Boston Post Road.



A butterfly's shadow follows me as I travel through a hot sunspot.

Meadows of grass, where painted cows graze.

Through a thick haze, the days pass.



Is darkness a bright dawn?

Am I a chess pawn?

Backyard's lawn?



Did someone turn out the lights?

Where days turn into nights.

I saw all those ancient sights.

In my mind, without any rights.




Jon Billet-01.03.16