Saturday, December 15, 2012
Some fog in all this dense is part of parts
of a believable world—
human coloring flaking off
under lamps: green lamps: two comets
collide us up super.
Kept falling up on the page of mud, my lips
combed felt & children smiling
all over the walls
were your perfection, your forgetting.
Build a lean-to
for instance for gravitational heft,
a place with a tree & a home a stupid word
inside all real lives beginning
with the letter.
A sad place held up.
Turning a fairway into a causeway
where a freeway runs through it—