By | 1 May 2018

I’m restless about affinity There’s a form
of am in every dream Stress prevaricates
Aniseed lingers You can be too fond of fences
making shiny choruses Air is a treasury
The horizon fills with shallow light
There’s devil in the air and everything’s
forgettable or repeated by cheer leaders

I failed at being a host as crumbs kept falling
My wounds itch on the right-hand side
and I made lines break like bones
that made me reel

Form is simply vanity I contemplate the heart
of each vegetable How do you say what to say
Genius is like terror You can never be that jolly
with scattered feet The old bush had to be dug up
There’s too much noise Worry is a form of idealism

I fret each dirty line The horizon fills
with self regard or the last light on the gum
which is a pink glow you can only see

I revise my chemistry I argue with stairs

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