ah that’s a one peg mister
something about a saint
pate boat on the madeira
the eye sings the surface speaks
dread among the fierce
smoky fissures up on fours
‘til then the night life
any side of shame
the animal a fine romance the spoon dance
the only game in town the only game around
yankee giraffes nothing remiss
dart a big finger too a big saddie the routine egg
beaming shallow spots disqualified lament
a foamin through the thicket
needles quarry near the road
a slower spot my fixer pays
alone in the foreshortened noon
we replay the dining room
we listen for the false alarms
we replay the hungry moon
what world what world what world
do you mean
what world what world what world
prove it to me
next summer you will turn the grass
the sun will shine and we will plant ash
straight of shadoway
mayday
it has no meaning it was my youth
the mood of secrecy had elapsed
the human soil proved fertile
the occasion was dour and more violent than expected
i quite understand was his only complaint
the stranger at my watch grew impatient
i was heard creaking in my chair
i was made for tougher things tougher times
when people aren’t so crazy
he wants to know my fears when all i’ve done is live them
it’s not a philosophy you know it’s not a conscious choice
he leaves me in the dark
the blood dries on my face i dare not open my eyes
and the silence is intoxicating
There is no use there is no use at all in smell, in taste, in teeth, in toast, in anything, there is no use at all and the respect is mutual. (Gertrude Stein)