Ganesh

Some small rumble (does the tail rattle?) at the roof, the tongue. I am my own confusions. I own my confusions. I am allowed to be wayshowed. To.

a kaleidoscope of convention

While you were speaking we were busy pecking our nests

No, we were speaking and you, whittling dumb thumbs

Allow my heart to rest

Humidity depriving the nation of its scansion

to verse the bleary anew,

what James Hillman calls 

in the March for Cash

the loser class therapists are 

left to contend with

On a night of future upset 

(in approach of its suggestion)

I meet a woman who says she is an absurdist painter

I like things that hail from other things 

I tell her this

'Hail' here a paraphrase of the post, made relevant by proximity to discussions of its literal manifest

Since passed

In Venice and Colorado, or Colorado in Venice, Max and his paving stones

For I think of colonnades dangerously often

Dangerous in their 'mystery', their impossible shade

words of the hour

year or century

jm basquiat

Adducing the miraculous, a fire forded, Lancelot in bed unnamed oh, oh 

A year of the inexplicable, the unexplained