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This is poetry. Is it remarks
against someone’s big announcement
anxious because the cosmos
should be undone again
now that the first
raveling has caught our attention?
Yes. By remarks we touch it back in place.
It’s probably not a door. But I heard something
slamming. Watch your fingers.
This and a few dollars
will find their way to a seat,
a partially obstructed view.
(skeletals lucky as geometry
leaning into a common plane)
(then away) (and sky says)
o never mind don’t worry
one person, a boy—
but why a boy—
in open air
grabbing for the moment,
grabbing, for the moment,
such a crowded planet/ where is everybody?
who is turning into God today/ gentlemen and ladies?
why stand under a lacy parasol/ to comprehend beer?
when the multi-sexed crowd begins to rumble/ where’s the sky?
the only way to find one is to kepe at it
notinvinsible but means to a place not home
woold all suck as brooden broke in sudden
that flames or sumthing else other tookover
as a then missed thing that wuodd fix it all then
later saves us we know what living means here
damn. tricked by a multiple choice. alternatives that included nuclear among the options.
damn. no sun for the longest stretch of days. of thunder’s reassuring something steady.
damn. straight. in the rude jet’s way the structures thrown up for business sakes alive.
damn. the end of never’s really something you ought to get behind. right this very minute.
damn. an unwanted consolidation makes immense the desires we tried to localize. in person.
damn. a moment with fingers can’t grab. and toes illustrate time’s pleasant inherency now.
Who has put love put love in the lane. Whose love’s been put.
There in the lane love. Has love’s eye on the road been lain.
By one who proceeds and proceeds apace. That is by one step.
And shines across the surface of a black plane the distance.
As distance in arguments in farces in plenty of dark suits.
In you and me a whiteness meets in the slack mumbling line.
a new writing style hung upon the adequate
will it fix a breakfast or an election will
will it remember the fresh shirt of the line
no there are no more lines, elections, or styles
there are some hitherto coherent flavors afoot
aimed at a fruitful disintegration as we settle
the way everybody talks when everybody remembers
we settle on freedoms awkward even ugly actual
and plenty cracked in the manner of old signs
a quick turn toward unguided sense for a very shy person
is the true disappearance of form yet it’s enormous fun
to recognize how a faux nothing comes with grapes & bitters
sent to your room. soon dismissed as an unnecessary whiteness
my oppressions tumble trifling as unremarkable beside yours
a squiggly line between true sadness and this here these notions
that I’s too small for the making. of any thing. I lacks the scope. I lacks the organs. the tools. ever a photograph.
takes itself away from its place. lost context collides with. what I wants. if not everything. the indefinite enough. in place of nothing.
and having. to be saying. is having. I hears it. going on. high and low. life. its loved and unloved parts. all one.
a detachment stands for “hey” say this comes to you do you say
complicate it in service of a vague dread or unhappiness or to
the end the recording calms you down as practical steady wind
settles the day. your plan for the day has become much simpler
you will intercede for the sky who only wants its fair share
of the anthropomorphic frisson nearly the whole world gets at
once the poem has been published out from the imperfect box
or self polished by say this sudden spin toward quicker sense
then you can probably say it just like a normal person would
o the naughty poets the naught of poets
world made of words stood up against the all-out strangeness of the world
words made of world there's another tune
you can talk about your heart and vague things so vague the photos will be out of focus
or while you talk about them in fact you stop talking as talking is known mid-sentence
there are these sounds airs they taught you and will take the place of actual things
but, mister, the particulars acting up around salaries pensions insomnias they go on
they get you to love your folks more fully in the daylight before the governed choose
who to convert to fuel for smart security requires an excellent and caring commodity
your heart at last prepared for shipping placid under sheets of gauze or dry gelatin
and there you found it where nobody talks about or needs an explanation a proposition
Like a thick bird gone up so high not caring how far or how solid the ground. Piece of cake.
Then upended. Tendencies. He had. Them tromped.
I’m following a famous pianist through his tunnels toward an uncertain conclusion. She knows.
The woman is an unfortunate metaphor. For an uncertain conclusion.
One work then another and so on forms a pattern in time and points in space. The work fits there.
No escape from telling, but no fresh news gets past the wall. Old man.
The way (is not worth) (is worth) the weariness. Harsh call.