There's an operator
of soft maracas
keeping the tempo
for all of us...
So by cold light
of heavy snow
I sold my red hearse
Became a van's shadow
Changed my name
Practiced it slowly
William A. Ripple
Molasses
Low resolution digital photographs
Colder than rum
Poor exposure
Laugh!
My mouth could hide
its lugubrious poems
behind peppermint gum
until my heart bursts
Every immigrant
should have a song
should beat a drum
should remind us of
Lettuce we won't grow
Clothes we won’t mend
To make deliberate eye contact
with total strangers 