Everyone spit on it. Did it in Switzerland, 
Did it suspended upside-down. Leaned over
The difference between leaning and falling
Wondering where the conversation went.
It was like keeping the baby alive,
Like a balloon smooshed by tiny wires.
I hated all of those clouds. Told less,
Furthermore, less, less, less, less, less.
Couldn’t go back and forth. “Less, less”
Intolerable. Had to go forward like
Dramatics. Did. Stop thinking. Unitard or
Saber. Just send in. Either way works
Didn’t come out of nowhere anywhere
That January. Blotting out the stars
Was only compositional. Leaning left
There they are. You crack any door
Into any bureaucracy. It’s the gym.
These bands are not for balls
Are correspondences. More invisible 
Executives with pendulum stresses
Not less. Not its diminishment with
The talking disease. Did click. Inspect
Click, tock, tick. Essentially atomic clock
Scheduled like an ass. You had minutes
To copulate. Then waved the flag of no
Surrender. And the train cooed far off
Into the farther. It looked like a face with
A little mouth face. There was a woman
Crooning on a piano with a daiquiri.
Did it trying it. The comb, the principle
Of pick-nose. But sadly the devil children
Teethe and cry, not like a pack of dogs.
The only other approach is laying mines
Under the asphalt, like the cadaver
Of Judge Crater. No one has seen him
In a million years. It’s like the fake magic
Better than the real magic. Surprised
Disappointed. Eyes closed behind eyeglasses.
That’s what they do with demons!
It’s so intellectual being a hunter and gatherer.
It doesn’t change, it only becomes more so.
The grim get down low. Everyone survives.
You can see it in the contemporary songs.
Like a wolf bite backwards. This body
Bends. Don’t hum swing low. Hut hut hut
Because no apology suffices for annoyance.
Ask the journalists why. Stick to safety
Under house arrest. Concrete footprints
Offending the palms in cement made
Immortal. It’s nicer in stone than wood
With these little tell-tales such as killing
The dinosaurs. I get greedy, I do yoga,
I change my face like a film noir.
I am an accursed pig pot porker
But I want to be so goodly. It’s desire.
There’s so little beauty on the table.
Apply paint chip to chapped skin sample,
Nipple, genital, and inner upper lip.
There are varieties even on the person
Considering heroes. Matters quickly.
They carry you away briefly and you tell,
You have the kids you were given.
Those with dependents don’t have to enlist
Decent Garibaldies say. Forget, forget.
The craziness is over because it failed.
The mesmerized inventor balked and
Goes to pieces. It’s so totally comical
The gap will recall.  You literally can’t
Go to Japan. The girl has contacts and
Parts. She didn’t write a word about you
Illustrated. It’s rude as moles and freckles.
Try escaping from that prison. The plan
Is extra roads. Connect the dots did
But did it yesteryear. That’s the problem
With already. Hopped the equipment.
Formed a party. Did it over the Alps
Into Italy or Germany or France.
You have to trust the leader or the unions.
It’s good graft. It’s the Buddhists
Sweeping the stones. Comes with apology
Like life in hotels. You leave a mark
By getting there eventually with car voice
Declaring velocity. Words for writing
Versus words for speaking aloud.
The idea is that dogma tells you
Where it’s going to snow and rain.
Batters the ball and chain for explanations.
But the quadrants are dysfunctional.
Not even Cartesian cat can help you,
Cobblestone. Moon pie, mud pie,
Eskimo pie. It has to be recent or ugly.
It’s the shortcut in the graveyard
But you don’t want the resurrection.
There are bound to be casualties
Like the shushed babe come wending
Its way my way, like on slick surfaces
The storm hasn’t yet rained on.
That’s the miracle of confusion.
Wheels love the negotiation. Limo,
Moped, sandal. The inevitable
Is not a transformation. Trail of
Tears torn pages. I menace lately
More than before, riding with news.
Wrecking ball mimeographs a room
With nothing in it but secretaries
And spies on the walls. Poke
The clock. It leaves so much dripping.
It’s a lot of crazy fun enjoying the phones
And their messages. There is a banister
And yet it’s almost also Belgian.
You have to go through crappiness
To get to capital city. Folk peels off.
The goo’s not glue. It’s like stabbing
Your own dinner. Hunk of conviction
The epitome of cornucopia.
That was meant to be a joke.
You can mess it up with nationals.
For rubes and cuckolds, rubies and
Emeralds. Look it up and it looks
The same as a mess when it’s clean
Is a fortification. Hill town batteries
Foreshortened by perspective. Spikes
Wear helmets, bang on a drum.
Load every rift with more schist.
If you’ve learned your lesson
Look scared, it makes them less so,
Less valuable values. Loving strangers
There’s a price on that country of women.
They only came looking for help,
For a place to crash with no one in it.
Do you know the story? I’m not going
To put it where it goes. Did no fever
Follow exposure. Freeze a cold.
I’m scared and I can’t do a thing.
That’s the place that isn’t foggy.
It’s theatrical only in its origins.
Frayed around the puncture holes
Slathered bad red. There’s no color
For friendship as a residue.
The soft skin. Indecision. After that
Everyone’s going to have to get used
To the new situation. I don’t have
Thoughts. I only have words.