March 22, 2012

The Night Petal's Edge

"Improvisations"
Brightening the foot, the sound mack making--force
the urge to slow down in the modern data
electric the finger that shall not quit what it
has been accustomed to--this You and I experienced!
Blo tted out round the fields over there--a many
with honest force, swigging upstanding words of many
Go where you get off

The icebox world   the sucker husband
is frightening   killing   the length
Sunday is no park. Outing.
Still sex she lay,
Putting dukes up, pouting.
Big, greasy mouth stammering
white football practice

Tom-toms guffaw in the dusk there
where there is no edge
(stop for your beer)
big breasts with make-up
sloshing hurt

What; the use of the graph
swinging the butts, my dear
The baby leaned over and I cannot put my name to it.
Now you are gone devout of heart at the bridgehead.
Now you are down the spine, raising the skirts.
Now you were the duck-pond, the Evangelist shouting sharp.
Culture of the rich exceeds lines of chestnut.
He adds poetic difference, churring, hear the rattle
of the torrent already at work
a satyric play dries up my cataracts.

Whether I make or take the words   intoxicates eastward
a cock of sunshade devote to fruitful time
labor aided by various muscles
narrowness of the garden--my lover legs gone beneath me
apelike
on all fives

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