After a Couple of Faint Knocks at the Door, He Slowly Opens the Book of Blank Pages

Was driving around, heard a new Select Quote commercial, just a week after Irwin's magnificent Tullis and Clark Expedition (if you haven't listened, please try), dashed off this email to Irwin (who doesn't know me from bip on the ping chart Ken the Station Manager shows him, or doesn't):

Tullis and Clark are dead. Heard tonight on Washington DC radio a new Select Quote ad, an earnestly concerned mid-thirty timbered voiceover over bedded synth-harp concern muzak. I'm guessing it's cause they can't do the $21 a month shit anymore, but I'll give you credit if you give you credit for destroying Tullis, crushing Clark. Hope the hour is your premium this coming marathon. Thanks!

Also, sorry for the bad post last night - it was the start of this one and I'm a klutz. Also, busy, no time to read last night so three songs one poem but no links here today (a few @BLCKDGRD), maybe some later, more likely tomorrow.





MORNING ARRIVES

Franz Wright

Morning arrives
unannounced
by limousine: the tall
emaciated chairman

of sleeplessness in person
steps out on the sidewalk
and donning black glasses, ascends
the stairs to your building

guided by a German shepherd.
After a couple of faint knocks
at the door, he slowly opens
the book of blank pages

pointing out
with a pale manicured finger
particular clauses,
proof of your guilt.