Tuesday, November 10, 2009

discourse #54

there is an art

to throwing things away

it dispels an attachment to objects

that would have otherwise

hove in on one’s ambit

to do and not have

or say

walk around the room

something splendid is hiding without flowers

not even the vacuum

is running

a rakehell is loose in the fabric

of unadorned walls

to find time



is what motion was made for

toss me aside

the seas will tremble

pinup girls will spend the night at home

and paper will gather


on other paper

without somebody around

to notice

the words bled onto it