GIVE/TAKE

Give my best regards to the owl surveying landscapes in the mind
I hope at least one person brings brass knuckles to my funeral
War machines in the sky trying to contend with all of g-d's lazy masterpieces at once
Thunder driving cicadas down an octave
You don't lock eyes with coyote, coyote locks eyes with you
My hands are tied—who's driving this train?
Somewhere someone is spilling their guts
Somewhere someone is going to have to clean it all up
This ground is hollow and the sky is full of miracles taken for granted
Broad strokes on the first draft, I promise to wear a monocle during lovemaking for the second
draft
Tell all my children g-d spits into the wind, and babies are born
Tell all my children g-d is a cardinal hopping from the wire to the ground, and back to the wire
again
Don't worry, you'll earn your stripes eventually
Overheard the ghost in cell eleven saying you can't steal something that you don't deserve