Sunday, June 24, 2012

running around the Goblin Wood

in a large part

not wait

a different way was to write
to ask for help

so there was this problem
and they do not ask for help

in her/his becoming cyclonic one is assailed
down the wet rides of forest backings

he just stands there and says

the circumpomp of nothing: these tirades
oh wide and wet we walk we squawk

do you mind?

what about new questions?

of the side-views one says nothing
but always there is the cave the caving

in her hat she sits imagine her in her hat
reading like that so surrounded

dead now close to sleep, snakes and pixies
the whole welter of female forest

which floor it goes to
the whole template
can you pick me up
and carry me?

clustered about her my boys my boys
the sudden learning of pain

everything else, everything

what do you make of this?


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