LXXII
Them Dead Joy Or Some Them
Duncan entire grass skirt open house or plainly snails gone
I would steal a cruiser moi-même-mine. Once, only paying customers opened their knees Football stars box down now
Where I steal a look Hiss to look All stars in a closet My Me Mine Mys old birds good Christian missus
And fell asleep in the oop-dee-doo the vestibule, comma. Requiem I recommend the finished lemonade.
I hate the trumpets and I haven’t any trombones
Furthermore: Who among this explorer’s club Unlatches the very Bring in a broom. Ga-ga almonds
Vitelli and Ross obliquely put it thus: I & animals meow-meow/are better in the shop I’m do corkscrews
To signal saliently tooly. Boots on my mind, on on on my more immediate lemon carcass
O vers! black campground on whose tracks spit out pigtails on a non-oriental twenty-three year old and sassy yeux
Seeing what’s coming what year at you A Death In The Library & no critics
Sophia Loren I feel your Mae West fill it with my portraiture,
A travelogue meets with adversity and I count my ruin in an alleyway. Doctor Nabokov sends Cremora up to their room.
Asia sits on me lap and if still again something the curtain rises silent nite torn from your arms
Reimburse my visiting rights mine taking aim and and death permit me mine the dead.