I run ably to the door of the wood eating ate

God a tiny smile a long, long sofa. I ate God a long long sofa he sat sitting small

I run to a field a collapsed grain silo the fangs

Of the trains heading up the ramp and blurred me I held all my small wheats to my breast

I run ably babbling your you a bag of you is enough

You push your nose flat against an aquarium window shoe store windows

I run cussing within, your policeman’s banquet a pair of handcuffs

Has the oxen ever met his end thrown overboard over the side of a boat?

I run to answer the door. Your entrails

Hurled at me from a dairy farmer’s truck just as his wife runs home cooking an old chicken in a pot

I run to answer “all in” you see me and raise me you see me to the end of my sentence a Louis Malle novel

And every detailed boat follows behind the shutters to the beginning.

I run to where the door is. The bell is huffing hot before the window

In your foyer. Daddy’s home. He calculates

I run in come in in. Downtown and the outdoors

Trouble in the frost, defrost, pay for a chalk horse each horse only an outline

I run at a bell at a beauty or loving corpuscle, a pullman porter

Falls fainting outside. The days are small.

I run if you can the dog on the bed rolling over in muck in rude

Potato skins the gardener’s at a game of aces and small estates.

I run now if you are able you believe your bedside crumbles at the hands of brutes and highwaymen

Bring down the munitions of old boy’s forest!

I run to get in on only under the road

The train and his family were cutting a boy’s woods.

Ah! I was running ably until you charged me with an iron lung train

Grasslands overtook all of me while the sun just smoked!

What were you running into? Your suitcase a kiss

Isn’t enough a soufflé a smothering sandwich.

I was running ably. Here’s the whole true story:

The ferry is capsized by the polecat!

I was running can’t I up onto the mountain the ceiling

And there on the terrace God stuck out his foot.