A man and his world

Papa, Papa, The pattern, the pattern! Jazz business. My massahs. My sermons. My abandonment. I'm wearing mostly animal prints this season. Soda crackers. Ethos. Stowaway. The reasons that we Earth Wind and Fire by way of Charles Burnett. I'm etiquette if you're sober yet. And I want my eyes to be that many cages wild. Stablemates, Playmates. Bill Cosby, Richard Pryor. Ballerina straddling a loom looking for costumes or rumors of gossamer, somewhere, the one I love is copying you he dares himself to be true. Never saw combat. Played a mean bamboo flute, convinced Langston Hughes to call you a democrat in defense of your thug dandyism. That was some party and the sun is coming up