81 Poop Hatch Lyrics

My eyes are burnt and bleeding and all that looks like a monkey on a 
silver bar...big poop hatch with a cotton hatch - hatch holes that the 
light shows in and the light shows out...and the little red fence... 
and the wire and the wood...and the barbs and the berries...the tires 
and the bottles and the caruponrims...and the heat swims upon its 
fenders and the dust collects and the rust of autumn surrenders into 
gold... trumpet poop on the ground with peanuts its bell was blocking 
an ant's vision...and the mice played in its air holes and valves...a 
ladybug crawled off its mouthpiece standing out red and blacked out 
its wings and blew off to a flower...its hum heard just above the 
ground...black dots were hung in what turned out to be an olive tree 
that originally held a tree house full of a building with one small 
window...birds and broken glass and tiny bits of newspaper..."My sun 
is free from my window," said the god the green dabbers...rice wires 
mouse tins and milk muffins...cereal and stone...matches and masks and 
mace and clubs...and splintered shaft light intrigues a cricket on a 
dust jeweled penlet...cobwebs collect down plaster run into a hole and 
find collected glass that drinks the reflection of midday afternoon 
midway between telegraph lines...a silver wing - a cloud - a rumbling 
of cloud...a crowd of various violins strum from next door through my 
wall into my ear obviously artificial...neighbors laugh through 
sandwiches...Harlem babies - their stomachs explode into roars...their 
eyes shiny with starvation...spreckled hula dance on my 
phonograph...my door rattles windy...sand wears my rug shoeand taps on 
the unheard finish of an hourglass I cannot hear...a typical 
musician's nest of thoughts through dust speakers..."Why don't you go 
home? Oh Blobby, are you great," exclaims two lips in some jumbled 
rock'n'roll tune and wears a spot I cannot scratch...the surface of a 
friend...this high bookafriend laid on me...on the couch relaxing in 
the corner behind a still life pond with plenty of bugs and lily pads 
slurred in mud banks and boulders tin cans and raisins warped by 
thought...strain on the spoon like a wheat check - check Bif - cotton 
popping out of his sleeve...poop hatch open - big poop ha