Strum and Strut

I got plumage, man.
Just how life can spawn
from a hot trashcan I manage to wake
After beers and jeers
New year’s
feathers never been better
come down and peruse
there’s a reason
I love a parade!
Still gets blurted
Furtive glances don’t get
Glanced.
Any chance you’ll come
Down?

You frown
with hangover malaise
phase one of the reconstruct
of your life begins today.
I know. At least one day
of procrastination
carried over from that bastard

2005.
Exhaust it with me and my downy mates.

Your house is warm,
but we strum and strut
with a radiance that only
Apollo can bestow.
You know
it’s been a while
since your senses
have been barraged with
a melodious one-two.
Three or four spots
have just opened up
on the sidewalk,
there’s plenty of__________space.

As we grace
Broad with tonal fury
appeasing the Petrified Penn
on asphalt grids
of his design.
Divine on his throne--
The Hall of the City
giving thanks to Thee
Quaker and Maker Of All
that you see.
Free of charge
we laud the new face
of Janus and the city
that thrives in your heart
apart from all others.
Brothers share your
flasked malt
and revel in the shadow
of the Clothespin.

It’s not cold.
You got your whiskey
and I got plumage, man.