theres a yacht on this boulvard,
and a overture pounding in my
head, theres a gypsy with a upside
down cross, and a clown to set him
strait, theres a stink in this vision,
and it smells like red, pink, and
purple flowers,
still this broken fan sounds like
some one typing, or a loud vhs,
being reround, and the tv turns
blue, and the actors smile and
play their part.
DAVID GERARDINO
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-dream-in-words/
