Jet planes will drop sometime out of the air
The cities below with our purposes, steam. They are sometime
To find remains, Mayors, a leather jacket
Your sometime boyfriend
And then you are taken to a place in the back where an
insane man enters
And points at you. What you've seen is no longer that
But the shadows of other things,
Much larger, falling in on you
Smooth sumac, corkwood, forgotten oak, maple, cubic pine
Surely one replaced boughs and petals over and over.
Surely devotion spread the halls of Universities its thick purple
Patches, passed out cruel pamphlets and meteoric tea leaves
Like a wood, as blank as apple pie, lurking in our souls
Like all the helpless boys passing out in each other’s arms
Like stray rockets, like the tears you cried into your fill
in the blanks
Like you can bury me rather than fill in the blanks
Yet I've written over this normal utterly displeasing copy
Stomping in the silence of the library, a child could grow
up and do this
The harsh surroundings of all that pulls us into her
That the narrow letters spell out A DEAD MAN DID THIS?!
But I stray, briskly
Of all the readers of this normal occurrence
In this bungalow, falling over ourselves to gather ourselves
The evidence of being loved in this bungalow
In this grip of a firm entity
How strange that the Muse
Has come to kiss me on the lips
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