* But who- ever provided
the more plausible speculation did win, drawing a Mongolian screen
around the dispute -- though perhaps that was in the 1970s, before they stored giraffes
in a diorama of the savannah
tufts of larval grass
sprung up around hindquarters
the surrounding statuary
culled from our civilization
despair of which, while archaeological
passes to a last protrusion:
her left thumb curled below
her right ear What brings you here My legs, what else What about this job makes you want to pounce all over it
After serving three years
I cannot have a complete thought
without moral enthusiasm
revolving in the rear of my mind Why are you a good candidate Short fences, low mounds Would you like a prolonged
stupid accident, a partial death
both in us
and obliged to us Excuse me I noticed all this merchandise stuffed in my bags Do you suppose No. I move from place to place
without supposing
That supposes a road
Right but I'm looking to get away from that
Jacqueline you must keep taking a
part away you can't have sympathy
for any individual part
Passing, yet ceasing, you
have patrolled yourself
almost peacefully
what you say
stays only so
and you did such
as ever does of you
You did it much and even as it
were you, you were the feelings
of one person as modified by
the presence of others, so why such a difference
emerging from darkened rooms into
still darker cabinets
to snatch the innocent medium
from the pit dug for her feet? You must learn never to wake up empty-handed
But how will I know * Children will work
if they think they're in heaven, goes the song I've been double crossed
or I've been framed
or my soul broke
when I was playing handball
on the back of a rock
where not for lack of love
but its shortcomings
I played alone Advice it is
to extort from you
gently across an upturned whack
the no-thing that makes us affectable
a shrift of horrible mist
bounding in from the forest
your hourglass eyes
resting on a paint job's
exaggerated clumps. Oligarchy
redeems consciousness, what else?
An accident in the cabbage aisle
around the side of which
we'd be indebted to find it
like a gleam in agate | 
