I Don’t Trust Spring I don’t trust spring so I wore my winter coat And now I am too warm thanks to duplicitous spring. Fate moves too quickly for me Like the important email I am waiting for which will not arrive, But in reverse. The world is too fast for me Or possibly too slow. The joggers are not over dressed The trees sprout leaves in just the right amounts. But I am left out of the season Like an email which will not arrive. Like an email which will not arrive I should go to sleep in my coat And dream of the bare arms of winter. And dream of the bare arms of winter. And dream of the bare arms of winter. I don’t know what comes next. Revolutionary Song There’s a great pale beetle in the brain of James Madison. It crawls through his buttocks onto the cheese plate of Benjamin Franklin. Cheese bounces like rubber upon the fiery honor of Alexander Hamilton. The narrative journey wears the green plaid socks of George Washington. Do not doubt it; do not doubt it. History will swallow you if you doubt it. We have found a fearless squid writing fearful poems in its ink sac and they all say do not doubt it. Thomas Jefferson winds up his wooden teeth and they chew upon the wretched fungus in the eye of compromise. In Paris they sing to the great wigs marching on the cloudy rhetoric of Thomas Jefferson. The ink sac is dry; the doubt drips like chicken soup into the soul of the brain of the heart. The origins of cryptids rise from tea like terror and Patrick Henry holds a frisbee between his gleaming gums. Every toss is a vote for truth. Every miss is a vote for death. The country stands strong as the pudding that leaks from Daniel Webster’s forehead. Do not doubt it; do not fear the porcine call Of gregarious egregious sand worms in the stall. JFK and LBJ come drifting down like fall. Praise until you doubt it but don’t doubt it.