this all smacks too much of God
this humanist literature
last what I thought it was. It wasn't!
some things they've drawn you in with, such as self-help
such as love, such as knives and fingernails
there in the back God appeared, by name, of course himself
leaving me with now a useless copy of lists
how much I depend on them.
I called again the other day, made no progress.
---
I've since written to you
last night I dreamt I wrote
a breathtaking letter
in which I elaborated on my actions the meanings
and then articulating, in Olsonesque fashion
clearly my thoughts of you and
I ran the words through my lobes
a few times for good measure, thought, Yes.
will certainly draft this in the
morning, pronto!
This poem is what became of it.
and the reluctance on my part
to see you a third time
settled in
---
I hear the two doors opening and closing,
outside it is snowing again, can you believe it
but of course you could, lousy smarch 23rd ---- 25th
no man can understand the lousy nature of his emotions
could, then again, just I
I smell worn wool, insides of leather boots
aluminum beer
ten dollar bills
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