Franciscan Complex
Each day the job gets up
And rubs its eyes
We are going to live on in dry amazement
Workers push the granite bed under the avenue
Bed of the married
The re- the pre-married
Making a form as forms become infinite
The scrapings scraping
Graywhacke chert
People wait for their bumpy little pizzas
Theories of theories in gravity voices
Melpomene goddess of tragedy bathes
Mostly the bride never the bridesmaid
Angel food in whole foods
Consider Tanguy whose lunar responses to childhood
Made everything a horizon
Those walking upside down don’t know what to think
The finch engineering itself to deep spring
Or you life tired of being cured
How many layers
Of giving up are there
One of it
No comments:
Post a Comment