Narrative (For Wurlitzer)

I didn’t agree with the moral predicament of Huckleberry Finn con- cerning Nigger Jim

Why was not a question

Why ride on a white horse if you’re not a liar

(never a question)

Or a boxcar if you have a heart or an apocalypse—the softest lips in the army band are still ordered to blow about rebel saints who came east to make the world safe for money and sadness

Why grieve a liar, all his horses war white and stuffed their ears with gin picked cotton, know not what they do, know why it was not a question

Full moon rising, purple in the evening sun. Try, yourself, to tell those actions backwards, in fun english, all you get are innuendos and yin then on the Night of the Purple Moon a dash (sheen, my gatherer)—— shhhh, the alphabet is a puppet show and your hands taste like straw- berries in the dark