Harold Weathervein
Cursive
The Ugly Organ
Harold Weathervein
Harold walks down any street of this town
both crier & witness the sun drops clouds shift
his legs twitch
the clocks chime on cafes, pharmacies, and dime stores, in bar rooms he stils all alone erupting.
inhisbeaditsliketheweatherback&forthitsliketheweather
when it rains it pours down
Weatherman, do you feel?
Is it stormy inside of your veins?