POND ORGANIZES A ROUND
fixation. Cable features wear
"impartiality." Subatomic grace. Key
to bored skin.
Scuttle your snit. Maybe
muffle your vote.
Imperial lips are pissing
cherries. A drone's never
a hum, but hangs
prone to marginalization by
the latter.
Every bray of the meek
could inspire a shiftless pity.
Is a drone, persisting
after beeline, bedtime, marginally
carcinogenic?
I sail a dead floor,
and I warm its fetid crack.
No scholars seize the chore
of animating slack.
Line riders speed much
maturity pent up in
trance. I press apprentices
to vary their arcs.
Coercion? To beautify. Shadow's
sheen cleaning out humid
cubicle, out of which
Apollonian intelligence should wriggle.
THAT BAROQUE STEEL RELIEF IS
heaved into a neighbor's back
yard. Not unpeevishly. That this
was never programmed for kinesis
becomes an ache somewhere inconvenient.
Does art accommodate its violation
generously?
Theories can bring awful
m-m-mold.
(Talkin' about my 'carceration.)
Hope I fly before I'm
s-s-sold.
Programmatic intuition: my breasts are
gawking at other toys. Who
holds the bounty cursed? Gene
motion always arriving to neck-
scruff laggards.
She wants now to spurn those things
I taught her.
(Wings that caught her.)
Tell her she can steep them
in her frame.
(In their flame.)
Next up: beveled novels to
be relived under curious hammers.
YINGLISH STROPHES VIII
Where from you crouching is
see good no blue steady
and crawl white. Paper office
you diversion, these columns what
perspires the doers always and
figures growing out. Out. "Never
forever." I interest sky is
where am I landing the
next tomorrow. Or some enough
near. It's all over a
Lost Vegas they shovel more
shekels shoving productive you can't
by me. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
We'll have snow April. Did
you ever have here April
snow? Do you remember?