COYOTE BLOOD
poetry, art, mistakes, music, love, visions and everything...
What the Rays Eat for Lunch
I used to be all blobidy boops,
and now I'm just what the rats eat for lunch.
Inorganic eggs the size of your head,
mixed with a little punk rock.
I am writing a pilot
with my neighbor, Josh.
We both never want regular jobs,
and so I send a book to the dude who dressed Bowie.
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