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
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