Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep.
1. A turning away, back to front, left little long hewn gone.
2. Often resembling their mothers, never sisters.
3. And their sense of the city – not turning the way to live that way.
4. A gentle man causing a fire next door.
5. They take two and a half pills to go to sleep at night, and still they toss and turn, never dreaming, only saying it’s okay, okay…
6. I knew one who had lived at the corner of 10th and 51st where he once took me to his roof to look down.
7. Crowds of millions tearing at the corpse.
8. They dismiss it because it’s not the same to them.
9. black mounds of mushrooms early in the forest.
10. I will be – as a construction – working.
11. Sailing, pulling away, running down that hill.
12. Besides being a people number, like a purple pie we remember.
13. To see, being seen, ache the others; the body blooming its blood and beer.
14. Each flake a sumptuous blemish.
15. Whole hearts of girls with fluted lungs dance quietly along the Hudson.
16. They took pity on you and gave you memory.
17. My body: the facts.
18. They drift like sheets of yellow lust.
19. Why prod regret like a jellyfish?
20. A strangled bird still sings a little.
21. Notes left for their languor: elle jette son bent clair, maintenant s'ennuie à crever.
22. Single in the foreground only.
23. They could go back, if only for free will.
24. The system of the dream: not quite right – not quite – not right, quite.
25. She legitimizes the roar she empties at night by being your friend.
26. “Paradise” or “Harmony” swept down along the violet floor.
27. Outside of the frame, he compliments her on her singing even though she stank.
28. Estranged, with meddling differences.
29. A bowl of fruit, none of it fruit, still life.
30. In a delirious, breathtaking two-and-a-half-minute shot, the camera moves ahead of a young woman and past a young man — catching him in close-up as he turns around, hoists the front of the coffin onto his right shoulder, and walks away with the other pallbearers — then cranes up the five floors of a building, past people watching from balconies and parapets.
31. A robin flew gemmy and succulent in its breastwares.
32. He twitches a little at the crawling against his bed-beaten skin.
33. Fondler of the poached.
34. They’re cerebral (and possibly illegal).
35. I’d always liked to think they always knew we were done for.
36. The untouched frontier that supposes imagination as all that’s left to explore, and yet that’s based on what we already know.
37. We aren’t always more than the sum of our parts.
38. I’m compelled to
39. The dervish blue boys down around the corner, coming for you.
40. Injured with flowers, spelled f-l-o-w-r-s.
41. Let us embrace the sight that wanders.
42. Applause, applause, all merry applause.
43. I am at the beck and call of a distant and dismal adherence.
44. Little air in their slovenly slack.
45. Incompatibility as an all-pervasive performance done in a Baroque style.
46. Puddles stemming from unkempt vocabularies (and the worms that swim in them).
47. My anorexic scoundrel.
48. Speaking of time with an equal occupied experience addressing questions of quantity and entitlement.
49. Cause in a jar.
50. They come with names like the alphabet.
51. I notice that one withering glance is all that it takes for the gooseflesh to rise, not to go away for some time.
52. What was the song that played when the world collapsed its context?
Punchline: He gave me a 10 inch pianist.
