deepundergroundpoetry.com

additif au livre de technique de saxophone

dispair'ate little dilettante'd'saxfon
once diligent beaux mons digits quiver
hit
wrong keys, slip,hit untended triggers,
no friggers to
figger,no touch'able love to
smoothe'n'smoothe

bastard may's'well still be drunk, steada
chortlating
on the sober-side of life, where cohortions of
'same-minded' have elevated the state to a sacred
delusion whichly can daintily devise a plot of
porpoise
for a sotten sober soul like I

just keep chortling yr own fcknbroke horns...some
becharmed maid may make merry love to ye for that sound
you sound by sounding on citystreetcorner cavalcade or
perhaps a lost wilderness

lovingly do what you love to do, & Money Will Come (posithink standby), & maybe Love
to ease thee final round

of what we think of as thee best wee can do...boo
� � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � � �hoo

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