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shall not be death, the shape of her body
a conch ear curling toward the Venus shore, a shoe kempt wake,
the flows of her backward river glancing sent, the absence of nerves
and verbs. Such she went for the ear,
peelin`the intent of her own renewal not yours,
wishing, hoping only to use you.
abandon period. not a semi-so-calle d colon: in the denials of argument,
grammar, and verse,
but some other place
Room for Rent
One year today he`s dead
One year a day a day one year a dead man
"I just hope he`s not cold," "What do you mean?"
"It`s just an expression"
"It`s just an expression"
O I just meant
he`s in the ground cold as can be
but he aint there no more
that`s his remains as they say
whereas he`s become spiritual folk-lore
Trumpets pipes wind blare
a dirty look from a woman wanting to protect her virtue
a dirty look from a woman wanting to protect her virtue
whatever shreds of punctuation are left
.
a cunning baffling eye to hunt down
the banging the din of her wanting
not me but some phantasm of memory
imagination gift, the robber and death.
let me bend my mouth to her.
(see below)
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(sounds rather biblical mister duff)
She was a saint at prayer
cherry-tree casting scooped airs
across the gallery
and her curves cures wore out the star
the city was battling its pressures
keeping her happy
these nymphs names mean nothing
some long tired glance from over the shoulder
a moralist waiting on the expectation of pain
Far from Paris in the street of tooting jazz-lair columbines
her black-thorn petals the ground, she is Parisian and dead
her warmth preceding her coffin humbles double deckers her down
across the setting sun
She is a saint at prayer in her eyes the
old memory of alcohol rescinds the thought of breaking bread
she finds the window
old memory of alcohol rescinds the thought of breaking bread
she finds the window
Tufted by the day leaning forward
her breasts pressed against the white ledge
Carries its weight to the end of day
(she`d like to be generous
but she`s
guilty instead)
Not three boats or three lines marshaling their power
to stay exacting fortunes and prayer
not the lexis of her deceit but the mad chimney
to stay exacting fortunes and prayer
not the lexis of her deceit but the mad chimney
of branching and willing among her loins
or something like that he says reaching
forehead blazoned in the blue weak sun
Ponder this a second she mutters
as the alphabet of her grave greets
her on the Plains of her solemn festival
Cries justice seeking none
flatters out of date milkmen waiting for paste
and tears and Bibles with heavy rivers of moth
Peace and predators.
One year a room for rent
he`s daddy dead men hench-men
the death of a person
sweeping the room
their absence
not a verse
but a reprieve
knowing it`s real
.
Faun frightened by the real
stench of the
body
lowered sky
lowered the body
hurricaned rifted by the shy goodbye
tough mellow moment at the wasting sheet.
Over a dead prose she walks the salts of her menu nude as her back before eyes, the eyes of others, her name, her mother. A muck heap, and a pretender tending his harvest .
wait then, the bark the canoe. One year, a room for rent.
Room for rent one year
ghost effigy plunders the sky
missing the parabola of unity
mouth trapped in the bye sign
An arm for rent one tear to displace
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A narrator to displease her sense of honour .
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