THERE ARE NO FISH IN THIS TANK

　

　

　

　

"the fascination of it being what it is" how much talent could there possibly be in the soil

see-thru creatures between flimsy break down label and stone event

goes round all together and inbetween everything blossoms appearing in the orchard

and tomorrow in my place i will leave word filled with ripening creatures

a non-rhyme sonnet that pride extrudes...

all things i was and where i’m going to come to promonotory Time

a dream rebirth the naked transmogrifying monster

falling through a hatch on saturday in the upper world

the upper world nearly found out it was me looking down from my shadow on the ridge the fuselage

sleep after rubric after hubris after down all is pigeon talk in soft evernescence

the vikings come in mist completely irrelevant

they have gone off in the valley of heat as all interlaced things

the cockerel the crow and the guitar strut in complete syncromesh

gibberish gibous she was our moon gertrude had a very fat mind but she was a little monkey

woman who calls her piece/pieces tender buttons deserve attentions

little monkey our moon my duck fly across clever dick now film

a pair of nice shoes for instance