Sunday, December 09, 2012

mdcclxxxii

check the floorboards for beige horizons
rise up and sing out of it.

                                     —Philip Jenks

The problem sometimes I think
is even more outstanding than the
railroad music. Sometimes oh
fucking hell even all over the
spectrum sweet to insane. And
who can blame it now the deep
arid breath. Should I today work?
Work nothing. Coming right?
Sink into the trumpet. I will if
only I read. If only I read some
something terrific if only I will
some something about monsters.

Sink into the trumpet.