But what if the hops don't hop
and the leaps don't leap?
What if the static light shines
steadily, brightly, reassuringly?
To each his own, then? Or must
I be right to be right?
But yes, a lot of this stuff is
consumerism of personal beauty,
and we do live in rich countries.
Pariahs have little use for
Picasso, and what's the right
time to read André Breton?
I am imposing a sprig of thyme
on time - the right time. Bly
needled an audience hope-
fully larger than the edition.
We are all children of our
shells, eating, defecating, starving,
watching people with limps
hold out a hand to children.
Rats, horses!
What have I come to, whisperer of Hi!
to horses, heidschnuck sheep and chickens
Frequent tearful wanderer of modernized
village streets
Wearer of beady yellow Schwarzenegger
sunglasses to hide behind
Dostoevskian change artist: yesterday
writing blackest law of no more contact
Today breaking it in cheerful high
to vaguely suggest fun trip to South-
Western USA together. Hath the man
no pride? No consequence?
