Staggering in Blue by J.D. Knight - HTML preview

My Idea

An idea is like waking

He  told me

He told me this

While the sleepy smoke

Of his cigarette coiled itself

There is so much damn thinking

So must waste

Have you sifted through the heap

Of your thoughts?

The refuse of its compulsive themes?

There!  He points

There is significance!

The blue bum shuffles in his untied boots

Across Ashland Avenue

There is no hurry

Because there is nowhere to go

Mickey is cracked

Like a motherless egg

This is my idea, I suppose it is a rancid thing

He shoos the flies, nods,

And swallows it whole