Do not stare the ridge
The papers can be wrong, then
begun to see small white pieces of god or city around which
the god or city is
accumulating, accumulated bright hunger
“…to chase – to waylay – to overtake – to pursue…”
in which alone is the sun open for everyone too
arrived and some rust coloration,
photographs of last years team
a caption, the pendulum is on me,
I want this looking done to the walker of streets,
to leather voice streak the rage for earth like you and me
are, adversary in your city,
develop yr claw, quick kingdom be dim,
how watery is formlessness? Brown, the only dog left ticks by
the window, rain plick every wood to gather over the fire.
When the winter
turn white I am sorry Jack Spicer.
The South make hair shorter,
Jaw tender this corpse was a coward you can tell.
Smoke earthly augusts flung themself at with calm both
sides of highway.
At the corner the house of chickens and geese near ocean. I’ve
wanted to tell you that for a long time.
In honey, through the
modern field with its being young with you the wilds either side
fascinated, everything white
Smell the air in the chant, blood moves faster the papers arrived.
Do not stare continuously at a ridge, I know a plane an uneasy one. DoRazor in the car,
Please make it look like early morning.
Man in fog is collapsed in,
Through unincorporated land
looking for the big spider
Later a quarry, Eventually the country
Almost liking a field together
Finding rose and trashbins to smoke behind
Abandoned shade stories about
a forest in May, Horn in the region
How our corner place rang the town
A brush, The devil tail you call your mouth
Took to swimming in, The meter of fish houses
Down at June’s
The second hell is boredom, The first
Attracted by round form locked in suns
Such angel nuns
to mention liquor, Redundant
because there is a flap a
Tractor by lavender which grow now
Rest on the bridge
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