i wish the world a million times over
to be full of gigantic elephants
and perhaps nine fire hydrants–this
would be splendid
didst see my tempest of the type?
that shall haply inhabit this wit
of telephony–
why if this simple syllogism around again
through the hoops of words i trip
on the plastic stops and
forever dreaming forever
it’s not as hard as youandi think
as we ponder into stone
our actions and
tenets touching a round thing:
perhaps it is metal and perhaps not
what and wherefore and why
is that redundant?
i don’t know/yes i know
no/yes
consanguinious
my pride is crashed and crushed
underneath the airplane of my calamity
it’s wing to be
they shall fly anon, sir
if that thy will shouldst serve
the slats will fall and water shall
cave under a neige
d’etoiles, twinkling
above the always subject
come off it, you are better than this
you and i both know
come back