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Tuesday, January 31, 2006 |
a love poem xxxxvii
he was quite the svengali —
and she,
with her bored apathy,
quite the lover.
anyone might have presupposed the logic of their dégringdade —
but who could have guessed the fever lying in wait in that jungle,
so quasi-familial?
7:37:13 PM 
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a love poem xxxxvii
nodding heads,
metal frames inside the tracks:
the dead out of their caskets
look fragile
sympa or.
sympathetic and que?
the dead in their caskets metal caskets
look so fine,
nodding heads.
even a brick wall aspires.
even a brick wall aspires.
even a brick wall aspires.
7:32:55 PM
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