My mound ne regrette rien - the identical moves

Until you crack    She has one or two problems with it

Which she can tell you about herself    Cest normal

Meanwhile our starveling philosopher at the banquet

Comes & goes    Wondering what

The gravy knows    Lost without accent

Of elision or vestigial horns to speak of    Phoenixes

Arrive    Next a yellow dragon    Tis a pity

What depends upon it    A happy accident should care

Survive its sheer whateverness    Oh unanswerable

Crease    Dont let on that they have never lived

                                                    to sneak

Barefoot over warm stones in the night    No snapshots

Of it change hands for a small fee    A couple of bucks

A tuneful fart    A smudgy sunset    That narcotic feeling

Of drifting listening to your own voice

In the distance not really paying attention

To the fuming abyss mingled with cries of birds

Circling    Swell party    Ill have another african nipple

Easy on the cream    Oh sure writings a cinch its typing

Thats hard    Who invites this matchless bum polishing off

The parlous swanning around marrying treacherous hints to

Dreamy openendedness    I liked kissing you    Her voice became an

Icy drawl    Take me away from here    If you will be so kind    Im

Quite sure id like to go home    Truly the way of heaven is subtle &

Obscure    My heart is like pine & cypress    But what is your heart

Like    Now whenever i think of them these things are remote & of

No consequence    Before the flowers open i often look to see if they

Are open    You touch the willows and make a new green    But the

Burning branch clung stubbornly to his tail

Posted on Wednesday, March 7th, 2007 at 9:14 pm
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