poem: play the rounds

platypus blues got you
rockin the casbah
empty dismal pepto
bismol days play
the rounds of fury
it's a kinder/gentler
bambino we're after here,
little franz, take your
Amerika all the way back
to bourbon bronx
oenophiles, regale yourselves
with all the psalms
at your disposal
cry a big rio
segue the rest
to the jonesy
midnights you reckoned
beyond your beck
this Faneuil hall
of cats in the early days
splendid Kansas City
barbecue, miles dithering
the holy cherokee out
of bird, two havens
for the smiley twins
of inactivity, jil sings
down the rest in
her radiant chorus,
it ain't the after she's
after, she wants it now,
the fistful of dollars
ain't for the takin, she
gathers the rest
down the bosom highway,
gallivanting little
heifers all in they
vigorous
Big Bib city
clairvoyant
rubdown.