dummy

A city’s stenography gives out at its

bridges. All there is continuous;

all there is expedience. It’s a world

apart. And without fields you’ll

miss so well. As liable to see John

Keats’ halo as John Keats’ sullen

flood. Sullen flood–and if its pull

is irresistible still it can take your

breath away–and you can take your

friends. You may. No pushing now.

Oktoberfest, and there is no faking the

math. So write it down like a little child…

I like the bazaar here just how it is.

It suits me fine. Does this girl know

the way to (St.) Petersburg, or what?

As tho I spent my summer singing

Penny Lane–mostly watching the wells,

the ditch-drawn strollers, hugging the

churning water, penitent for the prayer-

ful. As tho I was an ambulance driver,

then a chaser, Herr Doktor, criminal

mentat, a painkiller at the bottom of

the river. And doing it was my part;

my big toe was there. And my mandible

beak. Medicine woman. I don’t think

you want more ocean–you have it.

As tho ships won’t sail for the moon

without first asking. As tho water won’t

rise to the window without your seat.

So much beneath everything, fa la la.