REASON
Sensible Subjects
Men are mortal if Paris is in Texas
Where stuff on boots is steeper than you
Think along a bulky bank of sheer
Sunrise an eponymous drink
Customer Delight I think.
Speak, Miantonomo; don't be so obsessed
(Eponymous father of a hill)
With bumper crops of retro anything
The grass will grow
Without us
The ear might clear (or better
yet
unfold)
In the Magnetic Bug Theater.
Radio Evolves into Noise
Got
up, felt dubious.
O happiness,
death, and its reminder
What
passions speak for both of us out-of-
towners always
Arterial
around a central clamp
Or staple?
Much
country has been mapped in a vain
Thicket in which
I unlock the sun to bask
In the
truth of it all
Sucked
from a slight tilt felt for example
In Manhattan
Canyons obsessed with things but not
Revision.
Later Punjabi lunch.
Bought a candle and read Great Expectations.
Trial by Experiment
We lived
solely off acorns, true?
Yet
how could our thoughts
So dilapidate the tongue? Speech
Flutters in loop dusk a dipper
Always
farther upstream
Swell
You who
wonder
Wandering analgesiacs
Your pastry is waiting high
To be eaten with just a knife
And fork
from which sweet dust flies
On a
wing and a reservation.
What's
left to say can't float away
Out of a paper bag
It is said
Visions
occur more outside
The skin
than in its little
Vessels; take the logical utensil
To rescue a nutshell
Itself
adrift but what if
The smudge
pot in the arras lights
Just
a sandy little pond?
Decomposition
Obviously
we are not the queen of France
And you
are not in heaven
Jones
may be guilty but she isn't bald
Smith
then is innocent and Robinson lied
These
were our true commissions
Without
double or doubt
Only
the names have been changed
And if
the lake drains northward
Into
the Dripsweet campaign?
Then
Jones can sell her car
To the
hill people and be gone
Without
remainder
All the
world loves a loner
If the
pretty little girls
Prove
recalcitrant the port itself
Will
remain under junta control
Unless
a remand comes
From
the Colonial Office
Then
the jig is up
Hawkshaw
surely will have seen us
Going
down to the river away
After Taxes
The
labor of the bee takes us straight to the money.
And the
reason for this liquid?
Equally, we face the same odds
Melt in the canals
Of our mothers' arms.
The candle
remembers the economic
Quantity
in a (European) night
When even the curtains burned
Happiness.
Above
Alexei Parschikov
Lazy
blimps broadcast
Our sweetest
sciences awake
Mistaken
everywhere for liberation.
Sun
At midnight could have killed us
Or I could teach them how to flip
The switch
but why? A trace remains
Breaking over chains
How
high the error is
Pregnant again by who knows
Who
Or what beyond the walking dunes
A paycheck
floats unsuppressed
In a
letter on a droplet to a corporal
Going out
Among lovable obstacles
