Run amuck on the wheatgrass floor,
Why don’t ya sing some mythic lore?
Jimmy the door with your cool hands,
Fly out and catch some jewels o’ land,
The birds and the bees don’t mind!
Heck, run like the wind and ya find
A trove of kickshaws under the mangrove,
A bottle o’ mead near the stove.
Huck Finn, ya know, the wunderkid?
Ramshackle raft, he friggin’ slid!
Let’s sing our folksongs night ‘n day,
An’ cannonball in hills of hay,
O here’s to the jumbled rinky-dinks
And chipped ol’ mugs in the kitchen sink.
(a warm-up poem. currently working on another collection; pumped and real enthusiastic about this one).