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Come on now, ol’ bod!

Gimme at least one good reason

why this self-assault ain’t treason!

~

Man! It ain’t treason!

Confusion is the reason!

I don’t know what to attack!

What Now, Mother Mine?

We wrote the year ’round

And found, during our journey,

Many thoughts to bend our pen.

~

Shall we now extend

this unlikely writing trek?

Another round of mondo zen?

What’s The Sound Of One Poet Talking: A Solo Mondo

On a star-less night,

with no moon and no flash light,

what can guide my way?

~

You might take this as

a sign to stay inside and

write some silly rhymes.

Are crickets chirping
On balmy summer evenings
Perhaps the sound you’re longing?
~
Surely not hollow
Echo resounding off the
Walls of vacant, empty halls!