‘Ten thousand saw I at a glance’

I can’t recommend writing
letters to gods olden or
now—they’re all traitors
at some point, serfdom

us their garbled txts via rep,    via courtier  copywriter
                                                          via *courier
experiments in
                 I didn’t mean
                 to say

architect  sophistry  supercomputer  skyrocket

in sufficiency
          *authority,                               in obstructions.

Lab coats spook me with their pen-headed hedges,
their blanknesses.

We are held together by a line
of discs. Filled like a donut,
doctor said. Id est,
sacs of sweet & jam
waiting to burst.


I dislike being seen through.

Time calls Place, who pretends not to be there,
doesn’t pick up, dials Time
back  & leaves a joke message about being
trapped in elevators, batteries
dying—     static  something      static
& every other
                        what?      I can’t here.
I’ve left
                                           some billets-doux wrapped in paper.
            One like a rope
            from the animal’s throat.
                                          One like a fist
                                          from its heart.

The old butchers insist on truths, lest there be mis sed conceptions:

     “Throat”     “Heart”

Both fare but old-fashioned.
Frequently, they come “connected”—
the “heart” in the “throat,”    the “fist” “wrapped” with “rope.”
The “heart” favored, so
more dear,
more        courtly

Like sweet little breads, our delicacies, too,
gradually disappear after turned out to grass. So let us

                  nod to one another
                  like “friends.”

(When lonely, I fill up
with souvenirs, trombones.
My fist can hold 10,000 balloons.)

It seems there is no rest.

I download & hide
                  in a “cloud.”

I split the giant.

What does a lamp do in the dark?
Because the black bulb does not look right to live in.

No, Narcissus!
Rise. In place of remembrance,
be “productive.” Divide. Fill, fill—
fill the contract.

Stuff the emperors with donkeys.
Slap little penguins in     the katy
                                               the great the neat the near the best
                                               the nasty the jay
                                               the * * * * *

Punch in. Log in. Do not forget to save,
post. Transfer. Other things

remain classified, too powerful to look in the face.

Emotion. Spring. Daffodils. Stillness. Dust.