BPR 52 | 2025
All in step in one long & winding human chain with no beginning or end, everybody
who was anybody getting into it somewhere between here & the horizon, nobody
lollygagging as everybody goes prancing & shuffling along, everybody holding hands
with somebody all up & down the line while boogying & dosey-doeing to the beat
laid down by the high-stepping bands of funkadelic skeletons tootling & sawing away
on all sides & by everybody I mean anybody anywhere to be found across the span
of the great chain-gang of being—the king, the queen, the jester, the junkie, the hobo
with the buccaneer beard, the blind kid from the bodega, the biker chick arm in arm
with the surfer dude & there’s the mudlark, the mogul, the sachem, the solon, the bookie
high-fiving the roadie, the hanging judge, the moonwalking spaceman, the bareback rider
on tiptoe, the airbrushed centerfold, the blitzing linebacker, the godfather with the gait
of a graverobber & who knows how many serfs & bros & trolls & swamis & dandies &
geishas & grifters & lepers & maestros & starfuckers & manic pixie dream girls—everybody
on the move as The Bones jam & nobody’s getting out of this world alive & I mean nobody.