David Given Schwarm

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Once, I surely felt I heard it said that man is the hiney of the machinery – of this I am not sure But kiss, the football player, certainly admires the feel between the centers thighs. Unlike Elliots center which does not move – or the machines which is the tin man or his heart or some other part. This player has a spinning saucer mounted on his, or rather by his massive cup. Yes slightly reminiscant of the cofee grinder while ideally suited as an athletic supported not unlike charles young or a single phone from a head phone – a trip to the booth to take the order and upset the order of a perfectly ordinary conversation – but by allowing for judgements to bring clarilyt to a subject completely at our control the spoken word will never resume its original course. U and me reader / writed arithmatic is seperation fear of unification ungratefied eraly start returning later in my dreams to a hellish high school in which fourteen year olds flirted with exp in a fool hearted novice manner – lifes a bottle dylan said that biffs a fag hish school said that where as the clouds simply decry enough.
We all already know.
Outlets come in pairs like tits bu neither proclaim the existential electricity, the inherent coolness of simply simply living the aught getting caught only to realive the aught as one ought.

Now that we have the plot – how about a scene against which this ambling tale can be told