12/1/97 to 1/1/98, a Drunken Transit in 5 Parts

Testament
to usual affairs
attempts to
circumnavigate
old issues
but...
No actualization
brings
loquation

Here is '97
The year we found
the US without U!
the we tried to fend off
blank pages.
the year we learned about we meaning
"what every tick of fame (fome? come?) is.
the year I knew that Street legends
died with my
wages.
Not to lose heart...

I
(editor's note: a sun was drawn around this letter.)
am now reaching
for an empty
grail...
nothing new
but visions
persist
of an orderly
thought
that
THAT
can keep
me from
doing this.
So code
or cold.
this is
how I
leave (da B.A.Z.)
No.
(redacted) who?
No.The pasture
of the future
manure
to say
balance is naught
between us
darling
and I see
a red
hat that
says:

no matter how I wrinkle
tinkle (with thoughts)
((again?))
there's still a
loping behemoth
that smiles benignily
and gauges my
approach to image...
unemployment is
nothing compared
to life without
our good fans (?).

'98
Stolen deaths
and
crayon attempts
do not fill
the ledger.
elimination of the
two wing (hemispheres
for those of you
who didn't take
sole for breakfast)
of a scared
originality,
flying
to escape
this ink
magnet.

(2005 appended snark: uh, happy new year to you too, buddy)