The Continent in My
Attic
Lampshade dreamcatcher
Pink sunlight, green clouds
To the right of the aircraft
you can see light
falling backwards,
trampolines for
angels
4 a.m. in the apartment thinking of diagnosis
There are more than just two kinds of people
The drugs are your diving bell
I stuck around the college so long I met the hospital
The plane lands on the runway and I have
successfully
traveled back in time
My old ceiling’s frozen
Above, the transparent afternoon moon
The sky is in the bricks, diamonds collect and
harden sacred
rainwater
Butterfly atoms make up the inner dome of the courthouse
My suit and tie are a swimming pool of dreamwater
Scorpions cling to the outer cover of my novel
But today has been remarkably slow
Trying to relax in an old church pew
Listening to the recital
of a three-light
wedding
The water is wide but it’s a hymn
I hear another scene
I see him closing
the cupboards alone
Tree roots grow from our brains
The sun is an octopus that stilts across the broad plains
Alone in the empty apartment, face to the opium stars,
Kiss the nameless deep
Capital Cities Around
a Well
John Philip Sousa interrupted with “Carry my cash n loans!” and
the environment depends on how many jobs there are, a telephoto lens increased spiraling leftward as it zooms to
the bacteria sized ground Since calamity
is the only cuckoldry, so beauty’s a rifle Or a blooming magnet five percent of
the way out of its polar waves radiating when she, fluctuating gun-shy hostess
where it rains all day, I can’t help but contain pollution, “come on it
swinging from the wall!” the cash cow grabs
Horrendously The way it sips its tea we may never meet again your
muffled chloroform lights in the midnight public market which house the ventgates
leading to the famous milk and gasoline railroad crossings and down the tunnels
of wheatstalks where A senator of being, and Mozart perch intrinsically upon
the grey ghost organ of the underground swiss castle where they are searching
ever deeper for heaven his fingers sing out unspeakable golden shafts Uptight where the elevators drop to the civil
engineer red hats glowing, opal stones flashing No one knows the power of a
crenellated horoscope Undersized C-Jumper cable font sent through beta messages
in the mail to reproduce the hygiene aspect of the unwarranted fishmongers out
there among the high tidal towers lifted radiowise from the levitating searange
- ridgeline blue tops in day, onyx seersucker 8-bits at night on the rolling F
sharp waves where the stories indigenously hail from
sinkholes - too
bad under the vine is a –
Yes I said to a yellow yesterday and the hornet came after
me his dog on a hound outside all leashes but yellow has arrived back to me
today and I have changed its meaning
Undersized C-Jumper cable font sent through beta messages in the mail to
readhere the injection of the purposes of the bull and the seal How can Orsino
the photographer make no judgements He makes no judgements he has no judgement,
the lesser for us to be for we are impossible to not be accosted on some other
side of the field we can’t see before I
could not, clearly could not, grab the clear ropes yelling over the quiet sound
of the civil engineer with his slick pomade swipe the ropes were clear in the
clear open springwell artesian hollow pillar housing only the choreographed
rubber conveyor belt and its satanic pulleywheels buried deeper in the earth
than heaven and mozart
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