December 1998 / Volume One / Issue Three
Cliff Craven
Feeling Cassidy

    Sometime sustenance is a song,
          by four lads from Liverpool.
        Rolling over Beethoven,
          in a one bedroom grave.

                Four walls.
                   Fridge.
           Got a garbage disposal, too.
         So, don't speak of convenience,
            'cause I got it, Baby!
           At the flip of a switch.
                At the flip,
                of a switch!

          Electric Landlady won't play.
                 Faith no more!
            Scratched by nails,
              from my own cucifixion.
            Still I try sometimes,
          hoping maybe it will work,
                    this time.

             Desolate fields forever.
           Don't play it backwards.
             Hoax, O.k., Hoax.

         Always feeling Cassidy.
         Artist without an outlet.
        I can only lasso my muse,
      on a typewriter tape recorder,
which has never been invented, of course

     So, don't speak of creativity,
        'cause I ain't got it, baby.
         Just a washed up hack,
              twenty-seven,
      stealing other people's vision,
         hoping they won't notice.
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