The devil, for one, is a philanthropist.
He gave so much

It is the sort of clock that in ringing might waddle across a dusty dresser and fall into a drawer of luminous socks. The sort that might escape, given half a chance.

    At the center of the city I come upon a hill, at the top of which is a very large bird. I see it resembles an eagle. Though it’s about 14 stories high, it’s as docile as a rabbit. Its foot, I see, is tied to a stout nearby building. The rope used for this purpose is thick, the knot alone having the bulk of a cottage, or a pleasant bungalow.

I have the last pack of cigarettes in the world; but no matches. I am in the bedroom, which has an enormous window, so I have to keep my body between the cigarettes and the window. Everybody is in the other room with the matches. I try to think of some disguised way of asking for matches without giving away my secret.

I took the trip just to try it
in spite of warnings from friends
about over-cooked borsht, dreary

I’m the one who corrects the blurred
bodies, those grown uneven,
out of focus with

All 74 billion people who once
inhabited the Earth, are invited
to a party. The invitations state

arching out of the fiat black sheen
of coffee table,
the six inch crystal dolphin:

This showroom is now open. 
You will see the most complete collection 
of debris fashioned into the necessary shapes. 

It clings like a sheath-dress, 
this synthetic softness 
all of us wear in the office.