Issue 116, Fall 1990
Of Linnets and Dull Times
You said you don’t want to know any more
than you do now, of every thing that might be
a person. It would be cheating. That is urgent.
If we are going to mean in so many ways
let them all be lopped off.
That way we’ll know you’re getting older.
I feel sorry for anyone that has to die.
The lines of what’s expected
fan out like beaters. That’s all,
I think. But I lose things, now.
The beautiful shape of the toilet interposed
a viability as the air-raid drill ended.
We’ve got to do something.
He may be up there now, trying to find us.
If you let me, I’ll drive you back to the fairgrounds.